Buffy is flying, than falling and seconds before she crashes back into her body she is flying again, leaving herself behind, a being made solely of whispers that kept getting louder. The world is gone until she feels the firm pressure of his hands teasing her skin and then she is falling once more, aware of his knees poking into her thighs, his hands skipping across her breasts, his eyelashes tickling her cheek as he bends over her body.
"Buffy," he murmurs. Her eyes have closed. She forces them open to find him looking intensely at her face. She has never seen him like this, living only in the here and now, the past not a part of him for once. She lifts her head and kisses him, letting her lips slide over his and there is only sweetness instead of the undertone of bitter regrets and the tang of salty tears.
He shifts his hips the tiniest bit and she can feel him, dragging across her flesh and the sensation both terrifies her and excites her. sogoodsogoodsogood is what she wants to say, but all she manages is a tiny bird cry dragged from deep inside. He pulls back and she panics that he's changed his mind, there are a thousand good reasons to change his mind, but then she looks at his face. It's like looking at the sun.
"Mo chroí," he whispers tenderly. "Tá mo chroí istigh ionat." She doesn't understand the words but as he pushes into her, it doesn't matter. His body surrounds her and she'll never need more.
Author's note: The Gaelic translates as "My heart. My heart is within you." (I couldn't resist people, I'm not made of stone.)