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One-Shot “Please, just—” “No!” she said. And then she kissed him. She kissed him with such hunger and passion that if he kept his eyes shut he could almost forget that she didn’t love him. He could almost make himself believe that the fingers that were so desperately digging into his skin were there for him, for his pleasure, and not because she knew that every time she touched him he would do anything to keep her from stopping. But her exquisite torture made his eyelids flutter open and there she was again: his Buffy, his Slayer, his girl, with her too-wide eyes that held nothing but fear and self-loathing. And once he’d seen them, he couldn’t pretend anymore. Her mouth tasted like ashes. “Love,” he breathed into her kisses, his voice thick and deep with lust, “stop. This isn’t right.” Then she was eating at his lips like she was starving, sucking on his tongue to rob him of his powers of speech. He tried to say ‘no’. Wanted to. Meant to. But he’d momentarily forgotten how to draw breath. He closed his eyes again when her hot mouth trailed along his jaw and down to his neck. He forgot who he was – forgot everything, except how she was playing his body like a virtuoso so his skin sang with each brutal caress. But that voice in his head kept saying, This isn’t right. Mustn’t! Can’t. Won’t. So he brought his hands to her head to pull her away – to redirect her lips and tongue and breath and teeth to anywhere but where they were. But his fingers became lost in the soft silkiness of her hair, and he found himself pulling her closer instead of pushing her away. He needed to stop this, to stop her. But she knew his body. Knew how to break him, make him so weak with need he couldn’t think, couldn’t act, couldn’t do anything but lose himself in her.
All Buffy wanted was to forget, to forget heaven and her responsibilities and how hard everything was. She wanted to be lost in sensation. But she couldn’t. She was too broken to lose herself.
But he was drowning. He couldn’t fight this, couldn’t fight her. Before he even realised it, he was moaning his acceptance, whispering the filthy crudities she would accept to stop himself from speaking the truths she couldn’t bear to hear.
Thinking became so hard and his head fall back as the first whole-body shiver ran through him. “Buffy—” | |||
Disclaimer If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I am in no way making any profit from this site. This is for pure entertainment purposes only. Concept: (c)bringonthebloodshed.com (2004), Code & Design: (c)Diabola (2006), Graphics: Selene & Always |