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| Title: Sin of Silence (1/1)
Author: Kereia
E-Mail: dpe115@aol.com
Spoilers: "Afterlife", I guess. Nothing explicit, though.
Disclaimer: Joss owns. I'm playing.
Pairing: B/S
Rating: PG-13
Summary. Just a little vignette. There really isn't a story there. :)
Distribution: Go ahead, but please let me know where it's going.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Author's Note: I haven't written anything in a looong time. So I'm pretty
rusty and this isn't beta-ed either. Just a fair warning.
Sin of Silence
Passion fruits. Tangerines. Strawberries.
Covered in the reflecting glow of candlelight. Flames that chase the darkness
away.
Apples dusted with cinnamon and vanilla.
The sweet smell of oranges and lemons fills the room, stirred by the breeze
that slipped through the half-open window.
It's Christmas.
"Buffy?"
The Slayer's gaze tears reluctantly away from her dresser and shifts to the
man lying half on top of her. She feels his weight; a comforting pressure
against her body. His skin _so_ warm, only because he has been close to
her for most of the night.
The expression on his face is one of concern. Lips parted, their texture
soft and rough at the same time, blues eyes clouded with worry and
ever-present desire, dark eyebrows beneath white-blond hair drawn
lightly together. He looks down at her and she can see his lips
move again, but the sound doesn't reach her ears.
Straining against the sleepy trance she tries to focus, tries to understand.
To listen.
"Are you alright?"
A whisper. Almost imperceptible through the mist clouding her senses.
Her gaze locks with his she lifts her hand; fingertips skimming along his
cheekbones, dipping into the hollow beside his luscious mouth.
He turns his head slightly, seeking her touch, her warmth. Those beautiful
eyes close briefly, eyelashes fluttering against the pale smoothness of his
cheek, like the wings of birds soaring in the sky. Catching her hand, he
presses a kiss to her palm.
"Sometimes I wonder", he says, "if you're even there when I
touch you."
There are words, answers somewhere in her mind. But she can't find
them.
What do you say, when the man you love is the man you hate?
What do you say when the monster underneath your bed abandoned
its hiding place to snuggle next to you underneath linen bed sheets?
What do you say when skin that should radiate coldness is the only thing
that brings warmth to the frozen wasteland of your soul?
She remains quiet, always quiet, afraid that her voice would shatter her
heaven; a single note break the peace of his embrace. Afraid that she
will tell the truth. Bare her emotions. Destroy her world through her fears.
She can see pain flash through his eyes. Only for an instance and it
is gone so quickly that she can pretend she hasn't seen it. Pretend that
her silence does not rip through him like a knife. Pretend that she is not
shredding his heart to pieces.
Pretend that she can go on like this. That she can feel something besides
the cold.
Passion.
Heat.
Fire.
His touch makes her feel alive. The sweet friction of their sweat-slicked
bodies makes her shiver. His kisses, slow and open-mouthed upon her skin,
burn her to her core.
And she falls. Every time he reaches for her she falls. Helpless. Drunken
with Need. Want.
Desperate.
Until there is nothing left but the flames eating away at her flesh,
consuming
her spirit.
And then, suddenly, in that tiny world they created, the light isn't harsh,
or bright,.. or cold anymore but ablaze with the soft glow of burning amber.
No memory. No pain. No fear.
Just life.
But the fire always burns out and the cold seeps back into her soul.
She tries to hold on. Crying. Screaming. Clawing. And yet it slips away.
The flames die and she wants to follow them. So badly. So desperately.
The End
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