These Moments

 

He loved these… these moments. Far too few in one lifetime, even one as long as his. Encased in tangled bed sheets, bodies close, wrapped up in the soft afterglow of flaming ecstasy. His one love spread out before him, relaxed, calm, at peace.

 

Her face was turned away from him. Golden hair fanned every which way. These tender moments were the only times he could really look. So he drank her in, her lips, her cheeks, still slightly flushed, her delicate neck with the steady pulse of slumber.

 

Warm skin ran like velvet under his fingertips. All the different textures. The creamy silkiness of her stomach, covering a lattice of muscles belying their own strength. The coarser skin of her hands, palms worn rough from the rigours of the slay. So many battles fought and won.

 

Fingers flitting over arms, breasts, stomach and thighs. Cool against warm. He traced her form, tentative, afraid of waking her. Afraid of the world that would come crashing down the second her muscles stiffened. But until that moment he could pretend. Could try to believe that this time would be different, that this time she would finally realise.

 

She was waking. Breath quickening, face tightening. The walls were back up now, armour that protected her from hurt, from feeling and letting her just... be. Exist. Safe in her own cocoon where no one could touch her.

 

Spike withdrew, knowing his touch would not be wanted. Expelling his dreams in one long breath, he steeled himself for the rejection. He knew what would happen, what always happens. She would wake, suddenly remember, remember the night before, what he is, everything, and leave. Rarely a backward glance. But a backward glare and a punch if he dared try to stop her.

 

She inhaled, deep and slow. Turned to face him, hair falling back. Spike tensed, eyes downcast, couldn’t look, couldn’t cope with the disgust in her eyes, nor watch her leave one more time. Silence. Heavy. Seconds passed, and yet not a move. Always the curious cat, he glanced up under lashes. Blue met green. Strange. Her features weren’t twisted in disgust or shame but relaxed, smooth and… and open. For the first time he truly saw her. All of her. The insecurities, the fears, the needs and desires, all normally locked up, safe from the world. Was this real? He gasped, losing himself in the deep emerald pools, awed at being let in.

 

Eyes so large. Searching him now. Needing to see the same desires she felt, ached for. The need to be loved. Her lips parted, soft and moist. “Spike” she breathed, barely a whisper. The word hanging on the air, suspended on hope.

 

And in that instant he knew. This time would be different.