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by templemarker

Notes: NC-17. Takes place sometime after “Gone.”


He makes her burn. She wanted the fire back, but she hardly expected it would come in the form of a leather-clad vampire intent on making her feel even if it killed them both. Or perhaps only her. She’s not sure yet.

Sometimes it’s a slow kindling that creeps up her skin until she can feel the tips of his fingers on every part of her body when he’s done nothing but breathe on her. Lying stock-still on whatever flat surface they have managed to make it to, she’ll let herself be teased by his cool breath and the faintest hint of touch he withholds from her. When she thinks she is going to crack open, when she can almost feel the sparks dance off her

like willow in the alley

he opens her with his fingers, forcing her eyes to stay locked with his despite her desperate need to shut them against who he is.

who she is

The next time they meet, it will be different. Faster, stronger, harder. Smashed against some random mausoleum wall, she tears at his clothes while his hands trace a fiery path beneath the barely there shirts she wears now.

for him

His thumbs find her nipples, and she is squirming for a firmer touch. She doesn’t feel the cold chill of the night air

of him

when it hits her stomach. She never knew she could feel there. But the sensation, a blazing roll just below her navel, he tongues there, and she can feel it by her clit, by her nipples…

by her heart

And just as he is about to enter her, a movement is caught in the shadows. A stake is thrown, a vampire dusted, but neither really notices. Soon she is hanging onto his coat, trying not to lose herself again, but she can’t help it, and the refrain of her song keeps coming back.

I just want to feel

The next night he stops by her house and stares into her window. Her spine quivers; the flames are already licking up her body. She knows him by now, a thought that worries her, and she hates to consider what it means. She can distinguish him from all the rest, and now her Slayer sense recedes and another, stronger tingle takes hold in her brain.

She flicks off her lights and goes to the window.

A new kind of burn, this initiated by her will and his eyes. She feels them on her as the few nightclothes she wears are soon shed. Fingers are splayed over her stomach, a hand catches a breast. A rushed intake of breath, and she is soon teasing herself, pretending that it’s his fingers that are crawling over her, his tongue that laps at her clit.

As she feels herself flush, she wonders why he doesn’t just come in. Perhaps they could get to a bed for once. An errant finger pushes within, and her low moan is audible to him only. She realizes he hasn’t come inside more than a few moments, ever since that night

when he saw her and he couldn’t speak

she came back.

Another finger, and a hand is run through newly shorn hair. That same hand reaches to pinch her nipples, and as her thumb finds her clit she wonders why she just did that.


Where, love?

There… oh, there…

And perhaps you’d like this too?

The long awaited three fingers. She knows now that these tricks she uses on herself are from him, from her being with him. She can almost make herself believe that she doesn’t care. She feels his eyes, fastened to her body still, and this brings her ever closer to the brink


and she extinguishes the words before they can escape her mouth. She is stifled by the remembrance of two others in the house. She finishes with a strangled sigh and pulls out. Her other hand is pressed to the window, and she suddenly has the urge to smash her breasts against the pane, cool them off against the winter night, one more treat for the vampire outside.

This time was scorching. And she wonders just as she slips into her childhood bed how she can kill the flame inside of her that burns only for him.

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