A/N: I can't eat honey at the moment, so naturally I am now craving it. It's killing me. So my new obsession with honey has led to this little one shot from Faith's P.O.V. I may add more later though.
She's like honey, messy and sticky. She get's everywhere.
She's oh so sweet and delicious, with her blonde hair in adorable plaits and her big pale green eyes staring up at me innocently as she bites her lip till it's strawberry red and almost bleeding.
There is no picture, photo or painting, that can capture her beauty. Like honey that is all in her movement, in her golden dazzling colour. It's the way her eyes and hair catch the light, like bottled sunshine, like happiness contained in a jar.
She's so perfect and graceful, like honey oozing out of the bottle and dribbling down onto my toast in warm swirls and squiggles. The way she moves, the way she jumps and sways. The way she dances, the way she laughs and sings.
Her hair is the colour of honey, when it shines in the warm sunlight and when it flows down over her shoulders after she releases it from a tight pony tail after a night of patrolling and when the moonlight hit's it and gives it a soft milk white glow.
She's the innocence of Pooh bear when he get's he hands stuck to the honey jar or sticks his hand into the bee hive without a second thought.
Mixed with the sexiness off honey dripping onto her tongue, the way she licks her lips and then her finger tips and sucks the last of the sticky substance off in an attempt to clean her hands in a way that drives me wild.
She tastes like honey, sweet and addictive. It's a taste I always want more and more of. I want to taste every bit of her, I want to eat her up.
She's the honey and I'm the bee.
And just like honey, sometimes she's too sickly sweet. Too absolutely perfect, too everything I'm not.