A Slayer Lost (5/11: Letting Go)
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
She knows it's time. She thinks she's getting some of the vampire senses from his blood alone, because somehow she knows that the sun's down. Or maybe it's her Slayer senses. Either way, it's almost time. She doesn't just want the completion of the transformation, she needs it; craves it like she imagines she'll be craving blood in about 24 hours. Spike is still asleep beside her, so she nudges him.
He blinks blearily, taking in his surroundings. Seeing her, a smile breaks out across his face.
"It's time, isn't it?" he asks. She nods. "Your last night as a human. Should we be doing something to commemorate it?"
"Only this." Her mouth finds his neck, feeling around with her tongue until her teeth close over his jugular. With motions at first hesitant, then gaining in confidence, she saws back and forth, twisting and biting and cutting at the skin until finally she manages to break through with her incisors. Almost immediately, he vamps, his own teeth barely having time to fully elongate before he sinks them into the pale, delicate flesh of her throat.
It's a truly exquisite feeling; the taking of his own blood as he takes hers. He savors the taste; tries to memorize it and store it in the recesses of his mind for the future when she's no longer human and the Slayer. As he sucks, he slides gently into her. Neither of them moves; it's not about release, it's about comfort; a more intimate form of a hug. His hand travels back upwards, stopping to cradle the small of her back.
Without warning, he removes his fangs from her neck. Feeling him pull out, she follows suit. As painful as this aberration from the pleasure is, he has to stop her, unless they want to stay in this stalemate forever; a bloody equilibrium of giving and receiving.
"That's enough, ducks. You hafta stop now - I hafta..." he trails off, unable to voice the horrible act he's about to commit, with or without her consent.
"Kill me?" she finishes, his blood staining her lips ruby. Unable to resist, he kisses her, tasting himself. Her words, whether she realizes it or not, set the tone of their relationship, with her being the stronger willed of the two, and himself as her whipping-boy.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
"Close your eyes," he whispers, oblivious to the sentiment of the words, and they flutter closed, eager to end that chapter of her life. He places a soft kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight sweetheart," he whispers.
"Good night, Spike," she whispers, before his fangs pierce her flesh once more. This time, they move, albeit slowly. He sucks harder than before, drinking her with increased fervor in large, confident gulps. His hips slowly rotate against hers, but she's nowhere near the edge so that when everything goes black, she's in a quite pleasant stage of limbo.
The motions of Spike's lower body are almost unconscious, for all he's focusing on is her neck. He continues to draw blood from her body, his thrusts becoming unconsciously harder with each swallow. His orgasm sneaks up on him, blossoming in his belly without warning. Her pulse slows and her heartbeat grows fainter; when he comes down, her body is limp in his arms.
Spike can't stop a tear from trickling down the side of his cheek as he pulls out of her. Her lifeless body reminds him too much of the last time he saw her like this. Only last time, he cried tears of sadness. Now, he cries tears of joy.
He presses his head to her breast, holding her close as sleep overtakes him.
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
She knows it's time. She thinks she's getting some of the vampire senses from his blood alone, because somehow she knows that the sun's down. Or maybe it's her Slayer senses. Either way, it's almost time. She doesn't just want the completion of the transformation, she needs it; craves it like she imagines she'll be craving blood in about 24 hours. Spike is still asleep beside her, so she nudges him.
He blinks blearily, taking in his surroundings. Seeing her, a smile breaks out across his face.
"It's time, isn't it?" he asks. She nods. "Your last night as a human. Should we be doing something to commemorate it?"
"Only this." Her mouth finds his neck, feeling around with her tongue until her teeth close over his jugular. With motions at first hesitant, then gaining in confidence, she saws back and forth, twisting and biting and cutting at the skin until finally she manages to break through with her incisors. Almost immediately, he vamps, his own teeth barely having time to fully elongate before he sinks them into the pale, delicate flesh of her throat.
It's a truly exquisite feeling; the taking of his own blood as he takes hers. He savors the taste; tries to memorize it and store it in the recesses of his mind for the future when she's no longer human and the Slayer. As he sucks, he slides gently into her. Neither of them moves; it's not about release, it's about comfort; a more intimate form of a hug. His hand travels back upwards, stopping to cradle the small of her back.
Without warning, he removes his fangs from her neck. Feeling him pull out, she follows suit. As painful as this aberration from the pleasure is, he has to stop her, unless they want to stay in this stalemate forever; a bloody equilibrium of giving and receiving.
"That's enough, ducks. You hafta stop now - I hafta..." he trails off, unable to voice the horrible act he's about to commit, with or without her consent.
"Kill me?" she finishes, his blood staining her lips ruby. Unable to resist, he kisses her, tasting himself. Her words, whether she realizes it or not, set the tone of their relationship, with her being the stronger willed of the two, and himself as her whipping-boy.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
"Close your eyes," he whispers, oblivious to the sentiment of the words, and they flutter closed, eager to end that chapter of her life. He places a soft kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight sweetheart," he whispers.
"Good night, Spike," she whispers, before his fangs pierce her flesh once more. This time, they move, albeit slowly. He sucks harder than before, drinking her with increased fervor in large, confident gulps. His hips slowly rotate against hers, but she's nowhere near the edge so that when everything goes black, she's in a quite pleasant stage of limbo.
The motions of Spike's lower body are almost unconscious, for all he's focusing on is her neck. He continues to draw blood from her body, his thrusts becoming unconsciously harder with each swallow. His orgasm sneaks up on him, blossoming in his belly without warning. Her pulse slows and her heartbeat grows fainter; when he comes down, her body is limp in his arms.
Spike can't stop a tear from trickling down the side of his cheek as he pulls out of her. Her lifeless body reminds him too much of the last time he saw her like this. Only last time, he cried tears of sadness. Now, he cries tears of joy.
He presses his head to her breast, holding her close as sleep overtakes him.
