Title: More Than Fire
Author: Ducks
First Posted: 2000
Re-Posted: July 2004
Email: ducksfanfic@gmail.com
Rating: PG-13 - Sexuality implied
Feedback: Hey, after the naked Angel I gave you, you owe me! ;)
Spoilers: Barely any. Passing mention of "GDII" and "Angel"
Summary: Angel thinks about Buffy and fire...
Disclaimer: I didn't own them then, and I still don't. *sigh*
~
This is more than fire, the way I burn whenever I am near her. More than searing flames that consume me and burn me to ash. This fire does far worse damage to my animated corpse.
Watching her body grow rigid in recognition. Her head slowly rises and turns, and the soft golden waves of her hair fall gently into a halo around her smiling face.
She knows I am there. And I explode in her attention like the first time, every time.
This is more than the fire in her eyes. Their misty green depths cut through me like shards of broken glass. I catch a breath that I don't need, and my hands clench into fists. My nails dig into my palms until I can smell my own blood.
Even my blood smells of her, the essence of her, because that priceless magickal stuff flows through me.
When I remember how to move again, I draw closer. I can hear the demon screaming, raging inside of me. Even it -- no, especially it -- wants her. Starves for her. Even when I hated her, I needed her.
She is always happy to see me. Her body language begins to open up, her muscles relax the tiniest bit, and her arms open wide to me.
Her body's warmth envelopes me; more than fire, searing me. I am almost alive again with the heat of her. She leans her lips to mine. The current crackles in the air between us as our mouths find one another.
Like the first time, when I could do nothing else in that perfect forbidden moment, the moon's light glinting like a smile off her innocent eyes. I had to kiss her. I had no other choice but to take her in my arms and send us both plummeting into Hell.
I have always, will always, burn for her.
We don't say hello. The words don't matter. They never did. All the things we've said to one another mean nothing in the face of this unbreakable, burning bond between us.
I breathe her in: her unique aroma, warm and sweet like cookies. The flavor of her: tequila and sugar.
The first thing I tell her is that I love her. Her smile shifts, changes, a little. She knows what I mean. Her warm fingers, her tiny, strong fingers, snake around mine. She knows this fire -- she alone shares it with me.
Sometimes I'll let her talk me into dancing -- some slow groove or another. I put my arms around her and pull her close, like the first time we thought would be the last time.
Her heart pounds and her breath quickens as I hold her, but her mind hasn't even registered yet how on fire she already is for me. But I can smell it on her skin. Between her thighs. I hear it in the thunder of her heartbeat.
It's more than fire of the hearth. More than the sweet, precious solace of shelter; more than warmth, safety or sustenance. The way I feel about her is my home -- the only place I've ever belonged or ever longed with all of my being to return to.
I would gladly die my final death just to see her smile at me that way one more time.
And every night, she does. She knows. She understands this fire that nourishes and destroys. This flame that lights the Phoenix's wings and sets him into the flight of rebirth. From despair to ecstasy and back again, over and over. Forever.
She softens in my arms to accept me. Caresses my cheek or traces my lips. She already knows we are undone. Hurtling toward some distant certainty of our own tragic, once and for all, end. But the fire of eternity burns between us. Perhaps, in the beyond, we will still burn. Still ache for one another.
It's so much more than light. Each smooth inch of her revealed to my hungry eyes is another sun rising, making me miss the golden light of day less each miraculous time I touch her.
She is much more than a vessel haunted by me. Her soft sighs... her reverent chanting that reinvents my name.
She is more than the mold I pour my soul into. More than the reception of the original union that created the universe. Much more than primordial, this fire. It was before even the demons walked here. This call, one to another, was sung before even the first living cell divided.
I love her, this woman, this human, this living being. This soul that is the other half of me.
Even when I am full of her, I still hunger. I still burn hotter than bloodlust, and infinitely sweeter.
United, we are more than ourselves. We burn together.
Our fire is a beacon to draw all that is right and cast away the dark shadows. When I fight beside her, I am faster, stronger, more alert. I am a better warrior from my years of fighting at the Slayer's side. The protégé of the greatest soldier who ever lived.
She moves like a cat with fists of iron. She crushes her opponent, but more often than not, she outwits it first.
When the battle is done, and her heart slows again, she looks into my eyes. I know she feels the fire, too. Some nights -- nights blanketed in endless stars and crazy moons... Sometimes I'll just take her there in the grass like an animal claiming its mate, and she responds in kind, for her body immediately recognizes this dance and takes up its steps.
We share everything: our fears, our dreams, our pain, our joy. There are no more secrets between us.
Sometimes we just lie in bed, side by side, and look up at the stars through the ceiling.
We just lie there and burn.
More than fire, and longer than fire has been, there has been This. Love.
@Ducks@