1

We're in his crypt. It's after, and he's managed to make me forget again and made me remember the reason I keep coming back. So I feel free. So that the only feel of him is relevant.

Now I am angry at myself for needing him. I make excuses after I realise I'm talking to him. And I freak out as I soak again when he carresses my arm, my shoulder, my back, and tells me I'm amazing. I'm the one for him.

I can't say it. I lie quietly through my teeth, tell him I only like him "sometimes". I feel so guilty about that lie, I hardly look at him when he says he knows I like what he does to me. I do. The pain is almost welcome, the lust is double and love is always there.

When he looks at me...

His eyes are perfect. They're blue and penetrating, like he can see straight through every protest I make. Maybe he just doesn't want to listen because he wants me so much. He needs me. I'm sure he wants me more than I want him, which means so much more than I can even think.

It hurts.

It's an ache inside.

Spike.

I can tell it's not just sex. I could be with any guy. I'm not unnatractive. But the feeling that this guy loves me, the feeling that he's doing these twisted, disgusting, sexy things to me because he loves me no matter what... It heals me.

When I'm with him, time means nothing. My late night breaks at the Doublemeat are getting longer. He's rented a room at the hotel across the street and stays there sometimes during my day shifts. It's perfect. Just like him. Perfect as the bulge of his muscles as he grabs me from the doorway and pushes me backward onto a bed in a seedy hotel room.

He can tell I'm lost in memories now, and gets my attention by reaching behind himself and pulling out a pair of cuffs. We've never done that before. Maybe he thinks this time wasn't kinky enough for me. Maybe he thinks I'm not satisfied. But I liked it. I liked the feel of his hand gripping my wrist against the rough carpet, his forehead pressing against mine as he whispered my name again and again and blew it against my lips.

I was satisfied, but now I want him. The black scrap of lace I slipped on moments age seems useless as he folds the heavy, patterned rug off me and presses his body against mine, bushes his lips softly against mine and stands so I have to also, to find his lips again with mine.

My fingers are intertwined in the soft, short hair at the back of his head as he responds slowly to my attempt at a fierce kiss. One of his calloused hands runs up my bare back, down my arm to my wrist again. My hair raises, I love the twinge my slayer-senses make everytime he touches me, the feeling that I should be afraid gives me erotic low-down tingles. My eyes ease open and he's looking deep into them. He pulls his searching tongue away from mine and breaks the kiss. I feel him slip the cool silver metal around my wrists and clicks them into place.

I'm shivering in anticipation as he picks me up. The chain of the cuffs keeps my hands around his neck as I trace his jawline and cheekbones with my fingers. He lays me gently on top of his golden sheets and straddles me, ducking out from under my hands and cuffs and placing them above my head on the pillow.

How can this time seem more soft and subtle than any other? I'm tied, for God's sake. Maybe it's because he's trying to take care of me. He wants my trust, I can tell, that's why he's doing this.

I just want him.

He's dragging his searching lips down my neck, sucking on my pulse lightly and then licking his tongue over my breasts, pulling one soft nub into his mouth while sliding his hands down to the black lace.

The sensation of his hands slipping away my ast barrier, leaving my completely vulnerable and at his mercy; it all makes me shiver again, wanting, needing him to make me come over and over and over again with him inside me. I manage to stop myself from shreaking out his name as his lips are suddenly fastened over my clit. I can't help it - oh, wow, amazing tongue work, oh my god, oh my GOD - my internal monologue becomes verbal and my hands clench painfully. Slayer-strength isn't the best when you're tied. I know I'm going to have red wrists when I pull myself away from his bed, But wait.

Why should I?