"Okay…" Joey took a bite of garlic bread and made a face. "Jesus. Did you use a whole clove on this damn slice?"

"Shut up and eat, woman." He took a healthy bite of his bread and pointed the pen at the notepad in front of her. "Now, let's go back to your job."

She chewed the bread and looked down at her notes, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. One foot was on his chair, the other dangling below it. His shorts were pulled tight and she could see the dark hair of his legs disappearing into the leg, the shadow offering a tantalizing view of his thigh. "What about my job, Pace? It's in New York."

"They have branches all over the country, Jo."

"The city is huge, Pacey. I don't see why I have to leave it just because I left him."

"Okay, first? Let's remember that we're talking about Dawson. Second, what exactly has he been doing in the days since you left him."

"You mean besides calling and harassing my sister non-stop."

"Yeah, besides that." He smirked.

"Okay, okay. So he'd be there." She sighed and made a note on the pad. "Discuss transfer options with boss."

"Apartment."

"Pacey, I'm tiiiiired." She let her head roll back, her hand trapped against her neck as she massaged it. "We've been debating this stuff for almost a week now."

"Right. And you've only got a week left to make a decision so that when you go back, you can start implementing it." He tapped the pad again. "Your apartment."

"It's a month to month lease." She straightened up in her chair and pushed her food away, grabbing for her glass of wine. She took a sip and watched as he did the same, a small smile playing on his lips. "I can get out of it at any time."

"That was smart at least. You see?" He smiled widely. "You can make intelligent decisions, Jo. It's just when you start letting the men in your life make them for you that you fuck up."

"As I recall, you made the decision for us to break up in high school. Was that fucked up?"

He shook his head and finished off his wine. "We're talking about real life now, Joey. Not high school."

"It felt real."

He sighed as she got up from the table, carrying both their plates into the kitchen. He grabbed the notepad and pulled it closer to him, reading through the list of questions and concerns they'd come up with. "Have you called your lawyer yet?"

"She got the papers yesterday." Joey returned, carrying the bottle of wine and refilling both their glasses. "I wasn't ever really worried about that. He had to sign them."

"You're just worried about him being a continual presence in your life?"

She shrugged and sipped her wine, walking to the couch and sinking down on it. "He's been in my life as long as I can remember. I'm afraid that if I'm around him I'll fall into those old, familiar habits and end up back where I started." She kicked off her slippers and pulled her feet up underneath her. "I'm not sure I know how to be strong anymore."

"Jo," Pacey shook his head and moved over to sit on the coffee table in front of her. "You've always been strong. You've just let being scared get in the way of it. Look at yourself. You're intelligent, you're beautiful, and you're sexy." He shook his head. "You could have the world at your feet if you'd take a little control and stop laying down and letting life run over you. What happened to that girl who used to flip me shit every day of my life?"

"She fell in love with you and forgot how to be a bitch."

"Oh no. That's not true," he chuckled. "I think you and Dawson kissed and you gave up Paris for him. And you've regretted the decision ever since."

She looked stunned for a moment then thoughtful. "You really think that?"

"You had the opportunity of a lifetime, Jo and you gave it up for a relationship that lasted all of four months. A relationship that ended for the same reason your marriage did. He wanted you to be the person he thought you were or that he needed you to be and you really aren't that person."

"I'd wanted him for so long at that point…"

"You wanted someone you thought was perfect, Joey. You wanted someone whose life wasn't as messed up as your own. Dawson fit the bill."

"His life was messed up that year."

"Which made it even worse because all of a sudden he needed you more than ever before. And you hadn't felt really needed and really appreciated since your mom died."

"You've given this a lot of thought."

"I've been observing the dance you and Dawson do since the day you met, Joey. And our junior year, I did a lot of thinking about it. About you, about him, about the two of you and my place in your little dynamic. I can tell you pretty much everything you should know about you and Dawson."

"But you won't?"

"No." He shook his head. "Because you're going to have to figure it out for yourself." He handed her the pad of paper that he'd brought over with him. "Just like you're going to have to figure all of this out as well."

"I didn't realize you helping me would really just amount to you browbeating me to make choices."

"It's sort of like when you tutored me in math, isn't it, Potter?"

The room stilled as the nickname slipped out. Pacey looked quickly at the floor before getting to his feet. "I'm going to bed." He tapped the pad with his finger. "You work on this."

"Yes, sir."

He turned the cast iron skillet over and poured a small amount of oil into it, smoothing it over the metal and coating the entire surface before he placed it in the still-warm oven. Wiping his hands on the dishtowel, he tossed it into the closet that contained his washer and dryer and turned to finish putting the last of the dishes away.

"Okay. I think I've got this figured out." Joey walked into the room and placed the almost depleted notepad on the counter. "What do you think about Louisiana?"

"Girls get drunk and show off their tits." He shrugged. "There's no bad there."

"Other than the fact that it's sinking into the ocean, hordes of people descend upon it for Mardi Gras, it's terminally muggy and I'll find myself surrounded by seafood once again, right?"

"You asked my opinion of a state, Jo, with no real parameters of what to base my comments on. I went for the most logical."

"You thought the most logical reason I would be asking about Louisiana is to find out what kind of exposure I'd get to other women's breasts?"

"I thought maybe you were considering a real lifestyle change."

She shook her head and turned away. "Why do I bother?"

"Hey," he grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him. "I'm kidding. So, why Louisiana?"

"It's about as different from my life as I can imagine."

"You don't necessarily want something completely different, Jo. Maybe you want some things that are familiar and comforting to surround you so you don't look for familiar and comforting in your relationships, huh?" He turned his attention back to the dishes, his hand burning from where he'd touched her.

Her arms were bare, the tank top a pale pink that stood out against her skin, even though it wasn't nearly as tanned as it had been the last time he'd seen her. The matching boxer-type shorts hung at mid-thigh, though the backs rose slightly due to the soft curve of her ass. A small sliver of midriff flashed as she moved, the two items of clothing separating just enough to offer him a tempting look.

"But we've ruled out New York."

"There's still Boston, Capeside, a host of other New England towns. You can stay in the original 13 colonies and still have space between you and Dawson."

"But if I lived in New Orleans, you'd come visit me, wouldn't you?"

"I mentioned the naked, nubile women, didn't I?" He grinned at her as she slid onto one of the stools at the serving bar. "Of course, I really don't have trouble finding those kinds of women all on my own."

"You do have that Witter charm, don't you?"

"I do indeed." He walked over to her, reaching above her head and opening the cabinet. He slid the two wine glasses on the suspended rack inside it then looked down, freezing as he met Joey's eyes. She spread her legs and he took an involuntary step forward, sucking in air as her hands found his torso, smoothing over his t-shirt and pulling it tight over his chest as she slid her hands behind his back.

Without speaking, she pressed her body to his, hugging him tightly. Pacey's hand tightened around the edge of the cabinet door as his free hand slid around her back and rubbed it gently for a moment until she freed him and he moved away.

"That was awkward." She blushed but continued looking at him. "And I didn't mean it to be. I just…I want to thank you for taking the time to do this with me, to help me work through this without getting anything but frustration in return."

"I'm happy to help, Jo." His jaw was set in a tight line. "I told you that."

"And I appreciate it. I've given you every reason to hate me, Pacey. I've hurt you and used you and I've never been fair to you, but you're still my friend. Why is that?"

"I'm a glutton for punishment." He managed a tight grin. "I just want to see you get back on your feet, Jo. Doug and Danny did it for me when I got out of high school, it's nice to be able to sort of return the favor."

"Words didn't seem adequate. In retrospect," she shrugged, "the hug seems a little over the top."

"It was a nice hug, Jo."

She stood up and smiled at him, walking over and holding her arms open. "Maybe it was the surprise that wasn't fair then, huh?"

He shrugged and nodded, opening his arms as well and letting her move into the circle of them. "Maybe."

They stood for a long moment, neither of them moving. Joey closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of him. Pacey tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, his hand hovering just over her hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath and pulled away from her.

"So," she cleared her throat, moving back to the stool and her notepad. "Louisiana's out then, huh?"

"That's entirely up to you."

She stuck her tongue out at him and scratched something out on the pad. "No Louisiana."

"Probably good, given your stance on mosquitoes." He grabbed two beers out of the fridge and opened them both, handing one to her. Watching her hand curl around the neck, he shifted slightly and moved to the other stool adjusting the uncomfortable press of his sudden erection as he sat down. Grabbing the tablet, he looked over her notes, nodding as he read through them. "Very methodical, Jo. You been takin' lessons from Andie?"

"I'll have you know, I was the anal-retentive bitch in your life before Andie came along."

"And after," he assured her, dodging her half-hearted slap easily. "But while you've got the bitch sewn up, you have to admit she's way more anal than you could ever be."

Joey gave him a thoughtful look as she took a drink of her beer. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything that starts out like that deserves a resounding no, you realize that, right?" He took a drink, smiling at her expectant look. "Okay, what?"

"In high school…"

"Oh, Christ, no."

He was still smiling, so she kept going. "I know you slept with Andie. Did you guys do it a lot?"

"You're asking me to remember how many times I scored with my girlfriend from twelve years ago?"

"I don't want actual numbers, Pace." She drank more of her beer, her eyes unreadable. "I just want to know if you were going at it like rabbits or more like…sloths."

"That's lovely imagery you've added to my reminiscence of the more innocent time of my life."

"You were never innocent, Pacey."

"And you always will be, Joey." He slid off his stool and finished his beer, leaning in and giving her a swift kiss on the forehead. "Night, Potter."

She watched him go, past the counter and disappearing into the semi-darkness of his bedroom, the open closet door showing a sliver of light from the stairs to her room. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the tablet in front of her and stared down at her handwriting, finishing her beer in silence.

Joey lay back on the bed, stretching out on Pacey's soft, down comforter. "You like living here?" She turned onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, her head resting on her hand. "It seems kind of…"

"What?"

"Sedated for the Pacey Witter I know."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"No." She shook her head, her long hair brushing over the dark coverlet. "I know you. I just never thought you'd get to know yourself." She frowned slightly. "That's not right. I never thought you'd be okay enough with who you are to be yourself."

He raised an eyebrow. "And who am I exactly, Ms. Potter?"

"You spent so much time trying not to live up to people's expectations of you that you never got a chance to be who you were. You're really the dreamer of all of us, Pacey. The dreamer and the doer." She looked away from him and stared instead down at her hand, tracing nervously along a black thread. "You realize that, of all of us, you're the only one who really did what he wanted? You sailed, you played, you partied, you cooked, you fucked…"

"Damn the consequences?"

"Were there consequences? Honestly?" She sat up, her gaze on his as he leaned against the bedroom wall, the small lamp hiding him in half-shadow. "After it was me, were there consequences?"

Memory danced elusively around the edges of the room as Pacey cleared his throat. "There are always consequences, Jo." He managed a wary smile. "Some of them just aren't as obvious or earth-shattering as others."

She fell back onto the bed with a sigh. "I think all of mine have been earth-shattering."

Pacey pushed off the wall and moved to the bed, closing the photo album she'd been leafing through. "That's because all your choices have been earth-shattering." He gave her a knowing look. "You regret any of them?"

"Other than my marriage?" She laughed softly and sat up again. "I wish I'd made better ones. Or maybe made them at all, huh?" She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, sighing. "No. I can't regret them. I'm not necessarily proud of them, but…maybe I've grown up a little because of them."

"You haven't grown up, Jo." He shook his head, running his thumb along the edge of the photo album.

"What do you mean?" Her voice softened, sounded smaller.

Pacey ran a hand through his hair, blowing out his breath. "Maybe you're taking steps now. You honestly seem like you're trying to move on with your life and actually make choices that are your own."

"But you don't think that's the case?"

"Jo…" He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm not trying to… Fuck. I'm not saying this well."

"You think I'll go back to him, don't you?" She shook her head, a soft sound of disbelief parting her lips. "You think I'll just jump right back into a relationship with him."

"I think you don't like it when life gets difficult. You've admitted that it's tough for you to make choices."

"And you're concerned?" She bit out.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Joey."

"Which would be why you're sitting here, deliberately saying things that you know will hurt me?"

"I'm showing concern that you're too fucking stubborn and too fucking dominated by your history with Dawson to think straight, no matter how good your intentions are!" He raked a hand through his hair and glared at her. "Tell me I'm fucking wrong, Joey."

Her body was rigid as his words assaulted her and her chin jerked out defiantly as he looked at her. She released her knees, getting to them and staring down at him from the slight advantage. "You're wrong."

"Bullshit." The word had barely left his mouth before she was pressed against him, melting into him as her lips found his. Her breath left her in a ragged gasp as his mouth opened to her, his tongue thrusting forward. With a slight movement, he was propelling himself forward, pinning her to the bed.

Joey snaked her arms around him, her hands digging into his dark hair as one of his knees separated both of hers. His body met hers, his chest crushed against her peaked nipples and she groaned, her legs automatically circling his body.

"Oh fuck," Pacey moaned into her mouth, shoving himself away from her. His blue eyes were a stormy gray as he levered himself off the bed and moved across the room. "I'm not going to let you fucking do this, Potter."

"Do what?" She asked, panting the words.

"Fuck me up because you got fucked over. I'm over you." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, taking another step back. "I hung up my white armor a long fucking time ago and I'm not dusting it off for anyone. Especially you." Her eyes widened as he shook his head, his lips curled into a sneer. "I'm going out."

She got off his bed, wrapping her arms protectively around herself, covering the obvious signs of her arousal. "Pacey…"

"And I won't be home tonight. So don't bother waiting up."

The soft sound caught her attention over the familiar snap, crackle and pop of her cereal. She glanced at the watch on her slim wrist then bit her lower lip as if it had some ability to hold back the flood of self-loathing that seemed to well in her chest.

This was the fourth day in a row he'd gotten home after she'd woken up. The fourth day she'd crept into his room, making as little noise as possible until she realized the sheets were still stretched tight over the mattress, the bed not slept in.

Suddenly not hungry, she carried her bowl to the sink and dumped it, rinsing the clinging rice crisps down to the drain. Her hand shoved her hair out of her face as she heard the bathroom door close and with the other she set the bowl down.

Steeling her courage, she headed in the same direction he'd gone, knocking on the closed door. "Pacey?"

"What?"

He sounded angry, exhausted. She wondered for a brief moment what she looked like. Pacey had always defied typing his women, other than the fact that he liked their mouths spouting off at him as much as wrapped around his cock. The thought caused her stomach to tense and she pushed it out of her mind. "Can I talk to you?"

The door wrenched open and he leaned out of the bathroom, his body naked, his lower half partially hidden by the door, though she could see the bare length of his thigh. She forced her eyes higher, over his tanned chest and up to his face, his chin scruffy. He sighed. "What?"

She stared at his fingers, curled around the edge of the bathroom door, afraid to meet his eyes. "I'm leaving at the end of the week."

There was silence for a long moment, then he cleared his throat. "I see. Where will you go?"

She smiled slightly, her gaze dropping to her feet. She shuffled them then looked up, her smile stretching into a grin as she met his eyes. "Paris."

He was expressionless, his eyes flat and unreadable until he broke into a grin that caused them to dance. "You're fucking kidding me."

Joey shook her head, her own smile verging on out of control. "I thought about what you said. About making choices and doing what's right for me, damn the consequences." His grin widened. "I thought about where I stopped making choices and figured maybe it was time to go back there. And Paris was all about getting away from Dawson and what seemed like an impossible situation. Making a choice to move on."

He nodded. "Congratulations, Joey Potter."

"Thanks." She looked down then back up again. "As wrong as it sounds to say this, after basically declaring my independence, I couldn't have done this without you, Pacey. You were always good at keeping me focused on what needed to be done, at getting me to do what I need to, making me put emotion aside and move forward."

"Jo…"

"So thanks. It means a lot."

He nodded as she turned, heading back for the kitchen. He bent his head and started to turn around when he heard her footfalls stop. Looking up, he watched her turn around and come back toward him. She stopped, one hand on the door, the other on the frame, feeling the heat rising off his body. He swallowed hard as they stared at one another, neither speaking.

Her tank top slipped away from her skin and she dropped it to the floor, following the fall of fabric with her shorts and panties. He could see the darkness where they'd been pressed against wet flesh. His eyes traveled up her body, over her shapely legs to the swell of her hips and the inviting dark triangle of hair. Still higher, over her flat stomach and the curve of her breasts. The mounds were swollen with desire, the nipples peaked and hard.

He licked his lips as his gaze traveled the smooth column of her neck, up to her lips, parted on soft, hungry breaths. She was naked in front of him, his own arousal at the sight of her hidden by the door. His hand ached to release the wood and find flesh but he knew the first move wasn't his to make.

Joey took a step forward, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart through his heated skin. Her thumb swept over his nipple and she watched in hedonistic delight as he shivered. Pacey took a step back and she followed him into the bathroom, her naked body advancing on his. He felt the cool porcelain of the sink against the small of his back and stopped, staring down at her.

Joey's chest heaved, her nipples brushing his chest with every movement. Swallowing, she looked up at him and wet her lips, watching as his eyelids fluttered, feeling the quick pulse that shuddered through his cock.

Her hand moved down his chest, palm slipping over his abdomen and the coarse black hairs, circling his cock and stroking it gently. He sucked in air as she touched him, the pads of her fingers firm against the hard flesh. His thigh muscles clenched and he grabbed her arm, stilling it.

Lifting his other hand, he grabbed her by both arms and turned them around, lifting her easily onto the bathroom counter before sinking to his knees in front of her. His hands pressed against the insides of her thighs, spreading them as he leaned in, inhaling the sharp scent of her arousal.

Joey whimpered as his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin, slipping down to her knees as he planted feathery kisses along her inner thighs. The first touch of the rough scratch of his stubble brought a thick gasp to her lips as her head fell back and her legs fell further apart.

Her hand curled into his hair, pulling him closer. Pacey grinned and ran his cheek across her thigh, repeating the gesture on the other leg when she cried out, thick moisture painting the swollen flesh in front of him. Pacey growled low in his throat and nipped the pale skin with his teeth, teasing the slight scratches left by his whiskers.

"Pacey," she begged, her voice thick with desire as she tugged at his hair, scooting forward in offering. He raised his eyes for a moment then turned them back to the wet skin before him. He let her guide him forward, his tongue flickering over the swollen flesh, tangling in the dark hairs that framed her sex.

His thumbs traced along her labia, gently separating the skin as his tongue slipped in and brushed over her clit. Joey gasped and arched upward, her head smacking against the mirror behind her, the cool metal of the faucet pressed to her back.

Pacey nuzzled her clit lightly, his breath hot as it fluttered over the nerve endings. He tilted his head slightly and brushed the heated skin with his cheek. The whisper of his whiskers brought another groan from her lips and she dropped her hands to the counter, grasping the edge of it tightly.

He moved his hands to her thighs, stroking them with his fingertips. His mouth closed over her clit once more, his tongue now hard against it, then circling it with the faintest of touches. Her fingers clenched and unclenched beside her legs as he sent sensation after sensation shooting through her. One second it was the soft, silky touch of his tongue, the next was the scrape of stubble jolting along her spine.

Pacey sucked on the flesh surrounding her clit, ignoring her whimpered protest. He freed one hand from her thigh and brought it down between her legs, one finger tracing the rivulets of liquid that flowed freely down her skin. Joey mumbled his name, her body jerking slightly as tremors of desire and arousal shimmered through her.

He leaned back slightly and looked up at her. Her hair clung to her, beads of sweat shimmering in the soft chestnut color. Her face was flushed, her eyes closed. Her eyelashes swept over her cheeks, fluttering softly as she gave into the sensations he was evoking in her. Licking his lips and tasting her on them, he returned his attention to the feast spread out before him, bringing his finger back to her opening and slipping it easily inside her.

Joey cried out, her body constricting around him. Pacey thrust slowly, easing a second finger into her. She was shivering uncontrollably, her tenuous grip slipping off the counter. He filled her with another finger, his steady rhythm speeding slowly with every thrust as he leaned into her, his cheeks scraping across the inside of her thigh.

"Fuck!" Joey's head slammed back against the mirror as shafts of desire shot through her, pleasure and the tiniest filament of pain wracking through her body. He moved to her other thigh, torturing that creamy skin in the same manner as his fingers continued moving inside her.

Her legs tightened on either side of him and he moved his mouth back to her clit, his tongue matching the hard, hot rhythm of his fingers until he felt her whole body go taut, followed by the heady rush of her orgasm wrapping around his fingers.

Joey continued to shiver above him as he pumped his fingers deeper inside her, feeling the tiny aftershocks of her climax, slowing only as her breathing began to even out and her eyes fluttered open. She straightened slightly as he pulled away from her, standing between her still parted legs.

Her gaze was slightly nervous as he stood there, staring at her without speaking. "Pacey?"

"Are you on the pill?"

"Yes, but…" Her response was cut off as he stepped in even closer, thrusting his cock inside her without prelude. Her mouth opened on a surprised gasp, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as he lifted her. Legs twined around his hips as his hands slipped underneath her ass, pushing himself deeper.

He found her neck with his lips, his tongue tracing her throbbing pulse as he nibbled her skin. She was sucking the sweat from his neck and shoulder as he pressed her against the glass door of the shower, pinning her against it with his body.

She moaned, the sound echoing from deep in her throat as he held her hips, rocking them together. Her nails scraped his skin, her lips swollen as they moved over his cheeks, his lips. The brown stubble caught her hair and left it shielding their faces like a spider web as she shifted, lifting herself higher then sinking down.

Pacey grunted softly, one hand moving up her back to tangle in her hair. Grasping the silky strands, he pulled her head back and began suckling the tender flesh of her neck, working his way up to her earlobe. He skipped over the diamond studs to trace the shell of her ear, dipping his tongue inside and feeling her body quiver beneath him.

"God," she whispered hotly. "Oh, God." He filled her again and again, his hips rocking without thought now, controlled purely by desire as he pushed her against the glass wall, his head buried against her shoulder, feeling her breasts crushed to his chest as he jerked hard, thrusting his orgasm into her.

They sank down onto the floor slowly, tangled in one another as he lay on his back in the cramped space, kicking the shower door open and stretching out his legs as she straddled his hips, moving above him. He dropped one hand to his stomach, sliding it down to find her clit again as her muscles clenched at his semi-hard cock, and raised the other to her breast.

The nipple was impossibly hard against his palm as he cupped her the tender skin, feeling her shiver. He teased it, copying the motion of his other hand, circling both nubs as Joey whimpered and worried, her lower lip between her teeth as she fought her way through satiation and exhaustion toward another orgasm.

Pacey bent his legs, guiding her back against them slightly, arching her back as he concentrated on her clit in earnest, his thumb pressing steadily as he moved it quickly back and forth over the bundle of nerves. She hiccupped, her breath caught somewhere in her throat as she shuddered violently, the motion wrenched from her sweat-soaked body as she collapsed on Pacey's equally damp chest.

Pacey groaned softly, the insistent throbbing of his erection dragging him from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes warily, running his hands over the cool sheets on the other side of the bed before turning his head to stare at the rumpled jade material.

The calendar on the wall informed him that it was Saturday, the clock half-hidden by the pillow indicated it was after noon. He sat up and yawned, the covers balled up around his feet, his naked, tanned body chilled from the absence of them, his cock hard and aching.

He slipped off the bed and made his way to the bathroom, relieving himself and staring at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror as he washed his hands. The water was cold as he splashed it on his face, the droplets that worked their way down his chest ignored as he went back to his room.

He tugged the sheet back over the mattress then pulled the comforter off the floor and tossed it on top. Grabbing his boxers, he pulled them on and headed into the kitchen, his nose waking up enough to detect the faint smell of coffee, dangerously close to burning.

The pot was almost full, only a cup taken out of it and half of that still in the white mug that sat beside his sink, the faintest trace of lipstick around the rim. The kitchen window was open, letting in the salty smell of the nearby ocean. He closed his eyes and inhaled, dragging the familiar scent into his lungs.

He carried his cup into the living room, grabbing the couch cushions with his free hand and tossing them back where they belonged. He sank into the chair, taking his first drink of the morning as he ran his hand through his hair.

His eyes were locked on the couch and he knew he should fix it, straighten the haphazard mess he'd made, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he pictured her, her ass in the air as he'd bent her over the throw pillows, sliding into her from behind. Her pushing him back against the arm of the couch as she'd crawled along the length and stripped his cock free of his boxers and sucked on him until he'd come in her mouth, his hips bucking off the cushions.

Another sip of coffee and he turned his eyes to the rest of the apartment. They'd made the most of the three days she'd had left, using every conceivable surface as a make-shift bed. She'd given him a blowjob as he cooked. He'd fucked her on the kitchen table. They'd practically fallen down the stairs as he'd carried up to her room in the attic, his cock buried inside her.

He'd fucked her every way he could imagine, every way they could manage, every position they could find in their memory, imagination, books or on the Internet. And then last night, her last night, she'd crawled into bed with him and curled up in his arms and pulled him on top of her.

He'd stared down at her, staring at her uncertainly. The resolve was still in her eyes, the ticket in her purse, her passport tucked in the inside pocket of her jacket. Her bags were packed, beside the front door.

Seeing that, knowing that, he'd made love to her. He'd slid into her and taken her concept of the missionary position to a new level, both of them fighting every step of the way with kisses and strokes, touches and thrusts, caresses and whispered words. She'd come around him once, then again as he'd thrust his climax into her.

They'd rested for a while then found each other again, hunger sated but not controlled as they spent the entire night inside one another until they'd collapse into an exhausted sleep.

He'd fallen, he reminded himself, vaguely remembering the first rays of sunlight slipping up through the cracks in his blinds as he'd fallen into oblivion, certain the slight movement he'd felt wasn't her snuggling closer, but instead leaving his bed.

Pacey smiled again and took a longer drink of his coffee, wondering when he could take vacation time. And wondering what Paris was like in the spring.

05/01/02