A/N: decided that since the summary of this fanfic was not "G rated", it needed to be removed. It's recent reminders about content ratings are irritating the shit out of me, but no worries. You'll still have all the MA content your little hearts can handle. This is a re-upload. Enjoy…again.

"I need you, Eli," Anya said quietly, her legs tightening around my waist. I groaned into her neck, where my head rested while I gathered my willpower.

"This has to stop," I replied through my teeth, pulling back to look into her eyes, which were a warm, liquefied blue. "We can't keep doing this. We're hurting everyone. It's not right."

"I know that. God, I know, okay?" A regretful expression settled over her features, and despite myself, I kissed the corner of her mouth, hoping to soothe away the frown. "The least we could do is break up with them."

"But we can't do that," I finished, my heart wringing. We just couldn't. Owen loved her, and Clare loved me, and we loved them back with everything inside of us. To throw them away, to remove them from our lives and never look back would just hurt too damn much. Not even we would be able to fix each other then. Each meeting was a chance, a gamble. If either of them ever found out, it was over. Everything was over, and we'd have nothing left. So why couldn't we stop? Why couldn't I remove myself from her embrace and beg for forgiveness at Clare's feet? Why wasn't I even sorry?

Because in some strange, messed up way, Anya and I needed each other. Everything was so fucked up, but somewhere beneath it all, we kept each other together. The relief the joining of our bodies brought completed us. It reminded us that we were alive. I didn't know if I loved her, and in fact, I didn't think I did. I never asked about more of her personal life than I absolutely needed to know, and vice versa. I barely knew her if I was being honest. As a person, Anya was a stranger.

But her body? I knew that. God, I knew that. I could have mapped it all out, the subtle curve of her waist to her hips, the arch of her back, the softness of the skin on her stomach. I knew how she tasted, every last inch of her. I knew the texture of her hair when my fingers were wrapped in it, and the fullness of her lips pressed against mine, or wrapped around me. I knew her body better than I knew my own, and no one else's compared to it. It put me on a high that lasted for hours, days. She drew me back time and time again, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stop. It was sex, but it was more than that. It wasn't just the release I anticipated, but the sensuality, the danger. The desire that I knew wouldn't come with anyone else.

"I'm engaged," she whispered, holding up her hand. I took it, examining the golden engagement ring and the pretty little diamond that sat in the middle, small blue sapphires encasing the side. They shone in the dim lighting of the hotel room.

"That's great," I choked, stroking her fingers with my thumb. "He's a lucky guy."

"No, he's not," she replied, shaking her head. "I wanted to say no. I wanted to so bad. He doesn't need me, not me. Not someone who takes him for granted. Not someone that can't even be faithful. I'm terrible, Eli. I'm letting him marry the worst girlfriend on the planet."

I didn't know what to say. I was paralyzed. I had never been good at comforting people, especially people I wasn't close to personally. So I did what I knew. I did what I always did, and would continue to do, despite the consequences hanging over my head. I kissed her deeply, meeting her tongue with my own and ran my hand up and down her clothed side. "Listen," I whispered when I pulled away, because she looked scared and vulnerable. I had let our time together escalate into this plethora of angst and regret, and that had never been what this was about. "We both know that what we are…what we do…it's not right in anyone's book. We're cheating on people we love, and for what? A few hours of escape?" Anya looked away, but I grabbed her chin gently until she directed her gaze towards me. "But tell me you can live without it, Anya. It's so fucking wrong, but you tell me you can live without me, and this stops. It needs to stop."

"But it won't," she whispered. "I don't want it to stop." And that was the hardest part.

"Never," I agreed desperately, and kissed her again, roughly this time. She moaned into my mouth, her hand tensing around my upper arm and her back arching into me. I sprawled my fingers on her lower back beneath her shirt, pressing myself into her. Our kissing was furious and almost angry; it stemmed from the frustration we were feeling and the worry that hung in that back of our minds.

We just had to forget. We would, eventually. That's what these meetings brought us. It gave us peace of mind, even as we acted on what we'd regret later. We dug ourselves into this deep, pitch black hole, but we'd be damned if we didn't enjoy it.

"God, I love you," she whispered as I kissed her neck, nipping and biting and licking, trying not to leave a mark. I knew she didn't mean it, though. We never meant it. We didn't love each other. We couldn't, not in the way implied. We were attached, but love required more than that. I said it to her too, often, but we took it with a grain of salt. It was just something to say. Something we could channel the flood of emotion into. We had our own special definition, and that's why I didn't bat an eye.

"Mmm," I mumbled into her skin in response, wanting so badly to bite down harder, to leave my mark on her. But if Owen found it, Anya's life was as good as over. It was my job to make sure he had no reason to be suspicious.

"You can do it," she said, and I wasn't surprised that she knew exactly what I wanted to do. "He's out of town for a few days for work. If they don't fade by then, I'll cover up what's left."

"I can't take that risk," I said weakly, pressing soft kisses along her jaw.

"Please, Eli. I need you to. I want to be yours." Her voice quieted as she spoke the last few words, and that's when I realized that Anya liked to pretend. She liked to pretend we were lovers, pure and honest and really in love. I could see the appeal in that. I could see it. I felt it. And between that, and the surge of male dominance that washed over me when she spoke I felt myself catch the final no in the back of my throat.

"Please," she whimpered, and my resistance broke. With a groan, I bit her harshly, and she cried out in surprise and pain and infinite pleasure, her hands tangling in my hair as I licked the new wound, before biting down again, and again, licking and sucking and making angry little red marks all over her collar bone and neck. She whimpered and whispered my name, and when I finally pulled back, I could see the small smile on the corners of her lips before she kissed me again, re-wrapping her legs around me as she undid the first button on my black button-down. She had gotten better at it; her fingers had become nimble and lightning-quick. But for some reason, she worked slowly, kissing me just as slow. I moved against her softly, and when she finally got it undone, she pushed my shirt off of my shoulders and I shrugged it off.

"Oh, Eli," she said, breathless, when her hands explored the skin she knew all too well, and I moved against her more prominently, my dick responding to her sensual voice and warm, traveling hands. She sat us up, and her hair fell around her already flushed face. God, she was beautiful.

Her legs came to straddle me and my hands went to her hips, rocking her against me while I let her have her way with me, kissing my jaw and my neck and my upper chest. I reveled in the sensation and let my hands travel up her shirt, rubbing the soft skin of her back and stomach, my fingers grazing the underside of her bra. She pulled it over her head with the tiniest bit of impatience, and I loved seeing that her bra snapped at the front, making its removal quick and easy. I snapped it with my thumb and fore-finger, taking it off without letting my eyes travel immediately to her breasts. I looked her in the eyes instead, intensity darkening the bright blue to a cloudy gray. My hands found her first, brushing over the soft skin and waiting until her eyes fluttered closed before finally looking, not wasting any time in pressing a soft, chaste kiss to one, whispering against the silky skin. "You really are the most beautiful woman in the world," I breathed. "I wish you were mine." I was selfish, so fucking shamelessly selfish when it came to her. I wanted her, more of her than I got in our little meetings, but I didn't want to give any of my life up. I didn't want to leave Clare, or stop loving her, because she was perfect too. But there was something missing, though it most certainly wasn't the sex. Clare was beautiful, inside and out. I knew her. I loved her. We shared our life stories and our secrets and in all honesty, we could have been something out of a romance novel.

But we weren't two quirky teenage characters in a book. Our struggles were nothing like those that were usually presented; there was no parental trouble (at least, not anymore), no underlying force that stopped me from being there for her like I should be. No. The reason we didn't belong in one of those novels was because I was infatuated with someone I couldn't fully have and would never fully let go of.

I was selfish, and I felt Anya shake as I spoke those words, hurt and lost beyond repair. "And I wish I was yours." I brought my hand to trace the irritated marks on her neck, the ones I left. Anya liked to pretend. Why couldn't I play along? We only had tonight. Might as well make the most of it.

"Tonight, you are." I let my hands slide down her waist, letting my lips close around her nipple, kneading her breasts in my hands, her voice filling my ears. I laid her down on the bed again, making brief eye contact before skimming my fingertips over her breasts and making my way down. I kissed down her stomach with an open mouth, letting myself taste her, listening to the soft sounds she made. The gentle background music filled my ears, and I knew that tonight wasn't going to be a rough one. Usually, we fucked. That was the only word to describe it, really. I fucked her as hard as I could, not wanting to let her forget me or what she gave me. What I took and had a hard time letting go of. But every once in a while, there was a night like tonight, where the mood would transform. Nights when, despite my best efforts, an emotional connection was made, however small. Nights that let us know that we were dangerously close to ruining what we had promised not to do, and nights when we ignored it and took our time. Nights where we made love, soft, slow, and sweet.

And those were the ones that I thought were the most memorable, the most beautiful.

I unsnapped the button on her jeans, tugging them off of her hips and off of her legs, running my hands up her smooth thighs once they were disposed of.

"What are you doing?" She asked suddenly when I started to take her panties off as well, as used to the normal routine as I was. We usually undressed each other equally, and here I still had my jeans on while Anya was virtually naked.

"What does it look like?" I asked, my lips tilting into a smirk as I hooked my fingers in her panties again, waiting for her to give me the go-ahead.

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

"I want to." And that was that. Slowly, I lowered her underwear, watching them glide down her pale, smooth legs before tossing them somewhere behind us. I unbuckled my belt and slid my own pants off, getting more comfortable. I spread her legs apart and lowered my head, not breaking eye contact as I licked tentatively, eliciting a gasp from Anya's lips. Smiling to myself, I licked her again, and closed my lips around her clit, watching her squirm and whimper.

"Eli," she breathed, as I slipped a finger into her heat, continuing to sweep my tongue over her. Her hitched breaths and quiet noises fueled me, and I brought her legs up to hook her knees over my shoulders so that I could grip her hips more securely. My eyes had drifted, and Anya's had long closed in pleasure, but I locked my gaze on her, all of her. She was mine. "Oh, god," she whimpered, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. She had never been a particularly loud moaner, and surprisingly, I didn't have a bit of a problem with this. Whereas in most of my sexual experiences, the girl had become a moaning, screaming mess, distracting me rather than further turning me on, Anya was different. There was something about the rarity of intense noises that made them all the more sexy when I heard them.

I finished her off with only my tongue, her bucking hips bound in my hands, her back arching further off of the mattress as she came with a low whimper of my name.

I could feel the wetness around my mouth as I disentangled us, and wiped what I could off with the back of my hand before kissing her long and hard, making sure she tasted herself. Her lip had swollen from the harshness of her own bite, and I bit it as well, drawing a pained moan from the back of her throat that made my lower stomach burn in anticipation.

"I love you," I said as I pulled away, the revised definition hanging over our heads as she returned the sentiment before pulling me back to her, flattening her palm against my chest, my back, any skin she could touch as we continued to kiss.

"You're always so warm," she mumbled, burying her face in my neck, kissing softly before tugging at my boxers, pulling them down.

"So are you," I pointed out, my cool fingers sliding up her sides as she ran hers along my length, making my next breath catch in my throat. "God," I grit out, and she wrapped her hand around me, moving it slowly, softly, teasingly. Through the wall of pleasure I so desperately wanted to give into, I grabbed her hand and removed it.

"What…?" Her responding look of hurt had me paralyzed, and before I could speak, her eyes widened in typical worrisome Anya fashion. I wanted to facepalm when I realized that she thought I had signaled a red light – that this was the end and that maybe this would never happen again. "Oh my god, you…we're…" She backed away. "I thought that…I just…"

"No, I'm not stopping us," I assured her, grabbing her hands in my own, kissing her fingers. "I just want tonight to be special. I want…I don't really want to be close to finishing before we even have sex." She shook her head.

"Special? Why?" Tears sprung in her eyes, and this confused me, but I pulled her close. "This is just an affair, isn't it? We're just two stupid people blinded by hormones and unsatisfied with our lives, aren't we?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, honestly confused even further. The already dimmed lights flickered.

"Special…why?" She asked again. I opened and closed my mouth, racking my brain for an answer. The wetness in her eyes grew.

"I just…I don't know. I want to take things slow tonight. We're always so rushed, and I always leave before necessary, and I don't want to. I didn't want to in the first place. I don't want to fuck you, Anya." She flinched. I rested my forehead against hers. "I want to make love to you." Those words hung in eerie silence for a minute solid. Several tears streamed down Anya's face.

"You're…we're getting attached," she pointed out, and I kissed her bruised neck in response. "This is…you know we're not allowed to do this."

"I know."

"I have never heard you use that term before in my entire life."

"I know."

"We're not in love."

"I know. I know, okay?"

But we could be.

"Even using that term makes things a thousand times more complicated than they already are."

"I don't think we can dig the hole any deeper at this point."

"So what? Are you just going to up and leave Clare?" She accused, and the clarity of which she said her name made me flinch.

"Are you going to up and leave Owen?" I shot back, glaring at her.

"Of course not."

"Then you can't ask that of me."

"Who said I was asking you to do anything? It was a question."

"One you already know the answer to," I gritted.

"Then why do this to ourselves?" The question was honest and soft. "Why let the wall down – why should I let myself love you?"

"This can only end in tragedy," I agreed at once, and then, once again, my lips were on hers.

I laid Anya down on the bed softly, kissing her face repeatedly, mumbling sweet nothings in her ears. We agreed that what we had was good for no one, but the want was too great to even think about stopping it. We talked about moving ourselves past sex and into each other's lives, but that risked not only our emotional well-being but the trust of our significant others. It was true that we were so caught up in the moment that we considered getting up and running away from responsibility. It was also true that we'd regret this later, this emotional epiphany between us. But right here, right now, it didn't matter. I had her and she had me, in this shabby hotel room in the middle of Toronto. Rain started to pour and I could hear it hitting the window as I moved against her, and I followed it's steady beat until she cried out for me to stop teasing. Our chests heaved together and I grabbed a condom from the nightstand, shaking while trying to rip it open.

It struck me then in that moment of tiny trouble that I was nervous. I had no problem fucking someone, but Anya was right – the fancy title of making love brought with it a mess of complications that made my hands shake. I eventually tore them condom wrapper with my teeth, rolling it on and looking down into Anya's big, beautiful eyes. I kissed her once more before drawing the covers over us and positioning myself at her entrance.

A guttural groan ripped its way out of my throat as I entered her heat, her tight, warm walls clenching and unclenching around my cock. I rested my forehead in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, breathing shakily as I slowly pulled my hips back before driving back into her in the age-old dance.

"Eli," she gasped, her nails digging into my back, making me groan again in pain and a twisted form of pleasure.

"God, you feel so good," I breathed back, keeping our bodies close. I felt her warmth, the soft skin on her stomach brushing against my own, fueling the fire. I kept my thrusts steady and slow, harder when she asked and slower when she asked for me to go faster. Her moans were the result of her frustration and pleasure mixing somewhere inside of her. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair splayed across the pillow as she arched into me as far as our closeness allowed.

As release further approached, I was forced by my own self to drive into her at a quicker pace; using what arm strength I had (which had never been very much to begin with) I hitched my upper body higher, moving over her, still in synch with the ever-pounding rain on the window.

"No one else can make me feel this way," she gasped. "I'm yours."

My arms gave out at that, and though I tried to lift myself again as to not put so much weight on her, she locked her legs around my hips and intertwined our hands, kissing me with fervor and desperation. I angled my hips as best as I could, releasing the entanglement of one hand and bringing it between our bodies to roll her clit between my forefinger and thumb, drawing a near scream from Anya that nearly sent me flying over the edge. That had most certainly never happened before.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she whimpered, and I thrust deeper into her core. "Mm, right there. Yes. Oh…oh god!"

"Say my name," I rasped, and Anya's mouth gaped. Her walls tightened around me, and I myself could feel that release was seconds away. "Say. It."

"ELI!" Her voice was loud and clear and beautiful as she climaxed, her clenching heat drawing her name from my throat as the warmth in my stomach boiled over into release. Her name fell from my lips quietly as I came, my neck strained as I helped us ride out our orgasms, thrusts weakening and slowing, eventually coming to a halt.

Our ragged breaths filled the room, and as if on cue, the lights went out, lightning booming somewhere above us.

"Oh my god," we said in unison, and I kissed her while I pulled out, immediately pulling her to my side.

"So beautiful," she said quietly, and my rough hand found her face, cupping it as I kissed her gently again.

"Yes, you are."

"Tonight is perfect," she continued, not fazed by my cheesy compliment. "Everything."

"Except for the black-out."

"No, that's perfect too," she smiled through the darkness. We lay in silence for a few minutes before the inevitable question was asked. "Are you leaving?"

Yes.

That's what I always said. That's what she was waiting for. But she was too warm, the moment too perfect, the exhaustion too much. I didn't want to go anywhere. "I should," I said with unease. Clare would worry if I didn't make it back before light. "But no. I'm staying until the last possible second."

"This can't go on forever, you know," she pointed out, and she was right. Tonight had been a major step in a direction we never intended to go, and fancy title or not, we were sharing more than just our bodies. We had exposed our souls, and hers was every bit as beautiful as she was. "One day something is going to have to end." Be it us or our relationships.

"Let's not…let's focus on tonight," I whispered, bringing her lips back to mine. Tomorrow, next weekend? That wasn't guaranteed. That wasn't what we were about even at this moment. We were, if nothing else, about the perfect heat of the moment.

A/N: Reviews sure would tickle my fancy.