Thing: Intemperate Hearts
Author: Cobalt Mystic
Title: Intemperate Hearts
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R to be safe, nothing graphic but explicitly suggestive
Feedback: Mys has decided that she actually likes FB, so… constructive crit is fine, just be prepared for Mys to defend/explain her choices, and try not to do any permanent damage, k.
Disclaimer: Just playing with the pretty kittens. Unfortunately, they are not mine, but I will gladly groom and bathe them before sending them back home to Daddy (aka Joss/Mutant Enemy/et al).
Beta: The wonderful kitty-alex, who loves to correct my mistakes and still manages to love the Mys when she ignores her sage advice! :-P
Warnings/Squicks: schmangst
Summary: Whoa what a shock, this is one of those writings Mys generally labels as a ”Thing” ’cause she doesn’t know exactly what it is, it’s not quite fic and not quite poetry… it’s just a thing.
AN: Immeasurable hugs and thanks to the Xandry One, who helped kick Mys' brain into gear and made her find the right words!
*********
Cold, so unimaginably cold. Xander never realized there were so many types of cold.
There was the soothing cold of lemonade after working long hours in the sun.
There was the refreshing cold of ice sliding down your neck on a summer day.
There was the revitalizing cold of an Autumn morning after a long Indian Summer.
There was the biting cold of a waterfront breeze.
Then there was this cold. The cold that starts at the back of your stomach and spreads through your body consuming you, devouring everything that makes you, until you’re nothing, your heart a pile of cold ash in a crater that was once your home.
Heat, such intense heat. Spike had always known that heat would be his undoing.
The comforting heat of a roaring fire in the English Winters of his childhood.
The invigorating heat of a hot shower shared with the man he loved.
The life-giving heat of warm blood filling his mouth and viens.
The searing heat of his lover’s touch bringing the promises of the future.
Then there was this heat. The scorching heat of the sun, emulsifying your body and your life, burning to ash everthing you were, everything you could be- everyone you loved. A cavernous kiln burning too hot and too fast leaving nothing but shards of your fragile heart.
Cold, primordial in its frost. Heat, sustenance from its warmth. Two forces, one desire.
The familiar cold of a lover’s skin that you never thought you’d feel again.
The branding heat of mortal fingers caressing your dead skin.
The welcoming cold of flesh penetrating you, making you whole.
The loving heat of your partner’s blood overflowing with emotions and freely given.
Then there was this cold, this heat. The remarkable feeling of ice and fire combining, taking the chilling sadness of a lover lost and the flaming passion of lovers reunited, and reforging two hearts, intertwining them for eternity.
Title: Intemperate Hearts
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R to be safe, nothing graphic but explicitly suggestive
Feedback: Mys has decided that she actually likes FB, so… constructive crit is fine, just be prepared for Mys to defend/explain her choices, and try not to do any permanent damage, k.
Disclaimer: Just playing with the pretty kittens. Unfortunately, they are not mine, but I will gladly groom and bathe them before sending them back home to Daddy (aka Joss/Mutant Enemy/et al).
Beta: The wonderful kitty-alex, who loves to correct my mistakes and still manages to love the Mys when she ignores her sage advice! :-P
Warnings/Squicks: schmangst
Summary: Whoa what a shock, this is one of those writings Mys generally labels as a ”Thing” ’cause she doesn’t know exactly what it is, it’s not quite fic and not quite poetry… it’s just a thing.
AN: Immeasurable hugs and thanks to the Xandry One, who helped kick Mys' brain into gear and made her find the right words!
*********
Cold, so unimaginably cold. Xander never realized there were so many types of cold.
There was the soothing cold of lemonade after working long hours in the sun.
There was the refreshing cold of ice sliding down your neck on a summer day.
There was the revitalizing cold of an Autumn morning after a long Indian Summer.
There was the biting cold of a waterfront breeze.
Then there was this cold. The cold that starts at the back of your stomach and spreads through your body consuming you, devouring everything that makes you, until you’re nothing, your heart a pile of cold ash in a crater that was once your home.
Heat, such intense heat. Spike had always known that heat would be his undoing.
The comforting heat of a roaring fire in the English Winters of his childhood.
The invigorating heat of a hot shower shared with the man he loved.
The life-giving heat of warm blood filling his mouth and viens.
The searing heat of his lover’s touch bringing the promises of the future.
Then there was this heat. The scorching heat of the sun, emulsifying your body and your life, burning to ash everthing you were, everything you could be- everyone you loved. A cavernous kiln burning too hot and too fast leaving nothing but shards of your fragile heart.
Cold, primordial in its frost. Heat, sustenance from its warmth. Two forces, one desire.
The familiar cold of a lover’s skin that you never thought you’d feel again.
The branding heat of mortal fingers caressing your dead skin.
The welcoming cold of flesh penetrating you, making you whole.
The loving heat of your partner’s blood overflowing with emotions and freely given.
Then there was this cold, this heat. The remarkable feeling of ice and fire combining, taking the chilling sadness of a lover lost and the flaming passion of lovers reunited, and reforging two hearts, intertwining them for eternity.