Title: FOREVER IN A WORD
Author: charmingsyrai
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Series: Envenom
Timeline: post Chosen
takes place after YOU'RE MADE OF MY SIN
Characters: original characters
Prompt: #63 masterpiece
Rating: R (I dunno, i'm not good with these)
Warnings: bad language and some sexual stuff
Word count: about 1565
Status: -fin as in finished
Table of prompts here
Summary: sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night just to look at her, to hear her breathing.

Author's Notes: Nothing much to tell. This is just to show you a lil glimpse of their relationship. Oh btw, the prompt 'blood' will be this one's direct sequel - unless F will put up a fight and demand to get that particular prompt for herself... -- she didn't. Sequel is here grins

Anyway. READ lilhobbit's PROLOGUE because it explains why the vampires changed after 'Chosen' (and more accurately, after Angel's finale "Not Fade Away") :) It's important piece so go, now. Plus, it's really good so you don't want to miss it. Duh.

FOREVER IN A WORD

Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night just to look at her, to hear her breathing. He's told her multiple times that it's really unnecessary for her to inhale and exhale, especially when it usually gives the enemy a hint of her whereabouts, but she still keeps doing it. Even in the battles. She always says she can't help it, that it's something her body takes care of in auto-mode.

Sometimes he wakes up just to make sure she's there, that she's not some dream he had. He's dealt with many unpleasant situations and surprises in his life, way too many to count, but that one is something he doesn't even want to consider. Finnegan, the vampire's closest friend, always tells him he should ditch the made vampire and their "thing" - according to Finn, it - she is his only weakness and as long as he'll have her around, he'll be in danger. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that it means his lover is in danger too and that it's all his fault. He doesn't want her to get hurt, never… but still, he can't let her go. He needs her too much.

She's lying in the bed on her stomach, cheek against the pillow and hands somewhere hidden underneath it. There's a bruise on her bare shoulder, caused by their little argument last night and he wonders why it hasn't healed yet. She told him that she had fed just a few days ago, but the bruise tells differently. If she had drank, the wound would no longer be there. He would have to mention that again tomorrow. She'd yell, she'd scream and eventually, she'd hit and kick too but in the end, she would drink. Even if it meant he would have to force the blood down her throat like so many times before. All he knew was that he'd win. He always did.

To think of it, she had lost their fight yesterday way too easily even though she had been mad as hell for a reason he could no longer remember. It had something to do with the fact he had killed the people staying in the motel room next to theirs. She had been mad because it would endanger their location or something like that. All he really could remember was the thrilling smell of her getting wet. Yes, it had taken less than a couple of minutes to pin her down after she had thrown that damned phone at his head. Even less to remove her clothing. Granted, she had fought first, but really, the struggle always made it more exciting. For both of them. No matter how she tried to resist and fight him off, telling she was not in the mood and would not be, he always found a way to wake her body up; to make her aroused. She hated it as much as she loved it and he took pleasure in knowing it. A simple look, touch or a few words and he had her. Always.

She had whined afterwards to let him know she was still mad, told him that while she did enjoy the rough stuff as much as he did, chains and shackles and what not, it would've been polite of him to at least carry her into the bed. The floor, she had said while still lying on the floor and simply watching how he got dressed, was too dirty for her liking. Now, they both knew that wasn't it - no, it was about what she had once been. A prostitute. She never said the word and when someone else did, he could feel the way her body tensed. She hated that word with all her passion. But it was true, it was what she had been and having sex on dirty floor was something that made her remember those days.

She, his little slayer, his little masterpiece, she deserved so much more.

So, after fastening his belt and buttoning his brown shirt, he had walked to her and scooped her up into his arms without much gentleness or kindness. But after placing her in the bed and tucking her in, he had kissed her forehead apologizing.

Careful not to wake her up, he brushes the hair off her face to reveal a gentle lines of her nose and chin. Her eyelids are closed but all he has to do is close his eyes to see their perfect color of brown. He's never seen anything so beautiful as her eyes in his whole life; nothing as beautiful as she is. Gently, very gently, he strokes her cheek receiving a few mumbling words, but nothing more. For a vampire, she sure is a heavy-sleeper no matter what the time is, but that's something he loves about her. Her ability to get lost in her own little world and shut everything else, everyone else out. He envies her for that. He's never been so good with imagining things.

She mumbles something again in deep sleep and his fingers stop their movement for a fleeing second. When she all the sudden inches her body closer to his and buries her face into his chest, he can't help but smile.

"Teagan?" She mutters through her dream and he feels overwhelming joy; knowing that even through deep slumber, she still knows it's him, well, it makes the animal in him purr loud and clear.

"I'm here," he whispers into her hair, assuring. "Good… good," she answers. He knows she's half-asleep, not still fully awake and not really aware of her surroundings. This is one of her charming traits, to be able to sleep through anything. Whatever he would say to her now, she'd forget by the time she would wake up. He always teases her about that not wanting to let her know how adorable he finds it.

Carefully he moves his hand onto her back, caressing the naked skin as his fingers trail lower and lower. Soon enough they meet the blanket covering her lower body, but he doesn't let that stop him. He pushes it aside feeling her shiver against his fingers as the cold air meets the area that had just been protected by the warm, already sweaty blanket. She whimpers aloud when he suddenly squeezes her ass.

"Teagan… stop that. I'm sleeping," she murmurs, annoyed, not even bothering to open her eyes. It's not the first time he decides to disturb her sleep simply because he has nothing better to do. "I'm gonna find someone else to share my bed with if you don't let me sleep."

That hits home. She should know better.

In a blink of an eye she finds herself trapped underneath him, hands above her head, held still by his hard grip. She couldn't move, not even if she tried; his whole, suffocating body weight is upon her now, but she doesn't mind. Her eyes are open, observing the angry face above.

"Don't say that," he murmurs before kissing her roughly, claiming her as his. "Never say that again."

Teagan has never been the kind to be jealous over a girl. Many girls in his past had tried to wake that side of him, but never succeed. He remembers vaguely how those stupid sluts used every possible way to get his attention, to make him fall. Made out with guys in front of him, let it slip how many sex partners they had had and so on. Ultimately, it was always about them trying to make him feel something. He never did.

The she appeared.

She doesn't know what he's thinking, he rarely shares his intimate thoughts with her, but she knows he's serious.

"I'm sorry," she replies kissing the corner of his mouth soothingly, "I won't." His hands leave hers and the minute they do, she wraps them around his neck to make sure he gets that she means it. The cold metal of the dog tag hanging around his neck touches her breasts but she can't be bothered to pay any attention to it.

"You're mine," he says simply leaving no rooms for questions, for hesitations. You're mine. Mine.

His eyes fascinate her, the way the turquoise seems to change color depending on his current mood. They're cold now, icy. She's seen his eyes look like that before; every time before a kill. But even though she recognizes that, she's not afraid, she never really fears him, but still she's nervous. Nervous by the sudden change of his mood and because she never wants to make him feel bad. But she knows how to correct the error, she knows what she did wrong.

"Yes, yes, I am," she admits nodding. "Always yours, Teagan."

The ice in his eyes melts and he smiles, satisfied by the answer.

"Good," he says, "I'm glad." With that said, he lands one final kiss on her lips before he tells her to let go. Her hands fall down to her sides and without saying more, he rolls off back to his side of the bed. He's tensed, she can sense it and it keeps her from falling back to sleep. She knows something's bothering him and that he will speak soon and so, she just waits in silence.

"Now, Rhian," he says finally staring at the ceiling, "there's something we have to talk about."

-fin