u n d e n i e d
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)
characters owned by joss whedon. song by portishead.
angel or faith's p.o.v. you choose.
And all of a sudden I'm hungry for her all over again. Needing to feel her skin spill over mine as everything holding us apart goes tumbling to the floor.
Oh God, how she'd come over me, holding me in indescribable ties I would never try to get out of....
And that was it wasn't it? We were intricately tied beyond the bounds of flesh. She could see me as who I was, flying past the titles and love the frightened soul that lay beneath it all, beneath expectations, beneath everything we were meant to be and she held nothing back.
And so I would grasp for her with desperate fingers, her eyes if nothing else relaying that same need and yet telling me not to rush it, that she wasn't going anywhere, that everything was exactly as it was meant to be.
So she'll caress me with calm fingers, soothing that raging lust within my barely constrained limbs. She'll whisper indecipherable words into my ear that mean nothing and everything all in the same moment and I'll remember just what every single one means.
She accepts me. She loves me. She needs me. And I need her.
And then she would make love to me as if our bodies weren't there, as if they weren't needed because I would be satisfied with her heavy cries floating above me, with her fluttering eyelids as beacons of her passion, with every emotion she would pass over me, throbbing in and out of my veins.
And we would be as one within every sense of the word. We would come together as crashing waves of raw desire would envelop us in their purity and unadulterated love completing each other in their polar oppositeness.
Light and Dark. Love and desire.
And she would be my undoing, trembling in the aftermath of the touch of my Goddess. Trembling even as she held me within those certain arms, comprehending my need to feel her solidity, to feel that she was still here with me.
For I had been the one to leave her. I had been the one to take her for granted. I had been the one to run, frightened after my first glimpse of something as unconditional as her love.
But she holds me here as if nothing had ever come between us. Nothing of alternate options, of better ways, of things we should be doing. Nothing.
And even here as I lie in this acceptance of hers I grow wary, insecure. How could anything as untainted, untouched, as Buffy Summers ever come to deem me worthy of anything more than a glance?
For I know that without her warding them off, those dark corners surrounding me would swallow me whole, losing myself instead in her touch, in her gaze.
And so I kiss her, unrelentingly to assure myself she knows where she is, she knows who she's with. And of course, she'll return everything, kissing me viciously because she senses the uncertainty growing again and we'll be like two children racing towards the finishing line, losing nothing of the desparation in our movements, coming dangerously close, teetering there, before tumbling over the edge in an ungraceful tangle of limbs.
And she would hold me again, waiting until I would need to have something more, gradually weening me off the drug of her touch.
But I could never have enough of her. Days would come and nights would pass, but nothing mattered to me anymore.
Because nothing could reach me anymore, nothing could hurt me. Not even me.
END
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