I know there are a lot of these, but I couldn't help myself.

Mi Amor

The moonlight streamed gently through the windows and dimly illuminated the room in the way only the moonlight on a clear night can. The covers shifted as I propped my head up and lay on my side. I couldn't help but admire her astounding beauty in the moonlight, all smooth curves and soft skin, silky hair splayed against her cheeks and spilt across the pillow.

Her breathing was steady, even as those luscious lips turned to a pout and her forehead creased with concern. She was dreaming about something, and I couldn't help but smile. She whimpered and I reached out my hand quickly, smoothing her hair back away from her face and soothing her.

"Shh, querida."

Querida. The word came easily every time, without thought or hesitation. It had defined her in my mind for years now, a term of endearment, always there. Suddenly I couldn't help but remember the first time I had used it, all those years ago, back in her room at her parent's house…

"Yeah, well, newsflash, Jesse. I've been sneaking out at night for a long time, and my mom's never said boo about it before. She knows I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her statement and chuckle. "I don't think so querida. Not in this case."

The word had been twisted by sarcasm, ugly and spiteful, meant to offend her with its familiarity. She was so frustrating, so vulgar, so exasperating in every way. I had spat it out quickly in my rash anger, voiding the sickly sweet definition in favor of its slang use as a word for mistress. But she had been unaware, else I might have really had a few fingers broken before I managed to placate her or dematerialize.

At first, I used the word to tease her, but somewhere along the way it began to define her. As I look back on it, it's fitting. She was Life. I lived through her, and in a way, I was cheating on Death with her. I should have been dead, should not have been with her, but somehow I couldn't help myself. The storm in her eyes moved something in me that hadn't been awakened in over a century, and I couldn't keep from her side. In the end, she brought me back. And now, here we are, in bed together, as she lays asleep and I stay right by her side.

"Jesse…" she groaned, flopping over to face me. Her left hand grasped the sheets as she stretched her back and the light made the ring on her finger shine in the darkness. My own ring was a cool reminder against the side of my face, where my left hand was still supporting my head so that I might admire her.

"Why are you still awake?" she complained. "You have to get up in a couple of hours, you're keeping me up just to wake me up early too?"

"Sorry, querida, I couldn't help myself."

She blinked those lustrous green eyes at me owlishly in sleepy confusion, before nestling herself against me. The sensation of her skin against mine was euphoric, and I couldn't help but sigh in pleasure.

"Jesse! I'm tired and sleeeeeeepy" she protested from where she had buried her face in my chest. I couldn't help it, she always has the same effect on me.

"Querida."

She gave in, she always does. Somehow, by la gracia de Dios, I have the same effect on my Susannah.

I lost myself in her kisses, Nombre de Dios they felt so good. Soon, my arms were wrapped around her, and I was falling into her, her smell, her feel, her touch, mi amor, mi querida.