Disclaimer: I am poor and that Josh guys right therefore he owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I do not. Please don't sue me.
Okay this is just a one shot fic about Buffy and Spike. It takes place sometime during their love affair type deal. I hope you enjoy and comments and critic might entice me to keep going with this fic.
Once Upon A Midnite Dreary
Ever wondered what would happen if you forgot about everything that you have ever valued in your life? I know I have. Many a time I have yearned for the silence that forgetfulness can bring. Yet it still evades me. I wish I could forget what it felt like to have his hands on my skin. I wish I could forget how his cold lips sent shivers across my body from one touch. I wish I could forget the way his eyes seemed to bore into my soul and reveal my innermost fantasies in one glance. It sickens me to know that I value these things. Bile builds up in my lungs to know that night after night I can do nothing but come to him. To let him scratch the itch within me that only he can reach. I value him without realizing that doing so contradicts everything I have believed in. I value him because he values me, even if I do not deserve his false declarations of love. I still value the thought that he does love me.
Have you ever wondered why you care for some things more than others? I know I have. I care about things that, only a few years ago, I would have laughed at. I care for warm caresses from another's eyes when they think you aren't looking. I care about a soft sigh of contentment when you feel relaxed within another's embrace. I care about tears shed from a moment filled with such pleasure that it hurts to know it's over. I wish I didn't care about these things. I wish I could go back to the way I was before I ever met her. I wish she could return to being my enemy instead of the object of my affection. I wish a thousands things upon her head for making me feel this way about her. For tormenting me with moments of such happiness and then stealing away to her uncaring self pity. But most of all, I wish she would care as I care. For that in itself would be more rewarding than any form of torture could ever be.
Her eyes were glazed over as if she we still suffering the effects of their love making. As if what they did together could ever be considered making love. It was more like wrestling and boxing mixed together with a massage and an orgasm. She blinked as if to clear her head and gain as much composure as a naked woman can manage after a night of mind blowing sex. She turns to look at him and notices that he has been watching her. His own body mimicking hers as he breathes unnecessarily. At one glance at the pair you would think they were lovers that were so enamoured with the other that words were no longer needed, but then the silence is broken by her voice.
"Why are you out of breath if you can not breathe, vampire?" she whispers as if she herself did not want to break the silence shared between them.
"I don't know, luv. You always seem to leave me breathless despite the lack of need for breathing," he responded with the same thing he always answers her with. Then he smiled as he continued to look at her, admiring her sun kissed skin as it contrasted so sharply against his own moonlit toned body. She returned his stare, puzzling him for a moment.
Why is she still here? Must she make me suffer more than needed? She has gotten what she wanted-what she came for, yet she still lays there as if she doesn't want to leave. As if she is really content with the thought of laying near me-practically in my arms, after her so called need of me if over with. Who does she think she is? To contradict herself in such a manner that it confuses me, the only person that truly knows her.
Why is he still staring at me? Is there something wrong with me that he has to stare in order to see it? Do his eyes have to pierce into my own in such a way that it makes me gasp with the intensity of their depths? Must those blue devils look upon me as if they know my innermost thoughts and my most secret desires? It is as if he suspects something of me. But what I do not know. It is not like it is a crime to stay after our fling of passion long enough to regain my wits and composure..
She licks her lips as if she is about to say something else to attempt to end the uncomfortable silence that followed his response to her question. He lifts a hand to run his forefinger across the path her tongue made against her bottom lip. Then he leans forward slowly as if he is about to steal a kiss. He can hear her breath quicken even faster than he thought was possible, before he realized that anything was possible when it came to her. Then, when his mouth was so close to hers that her warm breath heated his own parted lips he whispers three little words that could either damn him or bring him his salvation.
"I love you," he says, then kisses her swiftly as if to silence any protest she might have tried to make against his declaration. They both moaned as the kiss intensified. Then suddenly she pulled away from him and started kissing his neck. He purred deep down within his chest as she slowly made her way towards his ear and began to nibble on it. Then she whispered softly into that ear the only two words she can say without regret.
"I know."
Why am I doing this? What has possessed me all of a sudden? I must be mad. That has to be the only thing that can explain why I am enjoying delivering pleasure to him. I have never cared before whether or not he enjoyed what happens between us, but suddenly I do. I care if he likes how I treat him when we are together. I must be ill.
Why is she doing this? Has she gone mad? Or has she perhaps fallen ill? She has never done anything like this before. She has never done anything just for my enjoyment; it has always been about her when we are together. Yet now she is pleasuring me without hesitation and with no benefit for herself. I think she must not realize what she is doing. I should stop her. I will stop her...as soon as she finishes.