Fic: Seeing
Author: Cobalt Mystic
Title: Seeing
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG13 for mentions of boys playing with boys
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).
Warnings/Squicks: Angst
Summary: Getting the boys to see what’s right in front of them.
AN: Please forgive the Mys if this is sub-par, she's trying to force a couple of fics to finish themselves but the boys just wouldn't let me be, so this is more to apease the angry muses than to be great fic, lol.
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Sometimes when we’re together, bodies joined in their intricate dance, I feel it. It’s just a ghost of a thought- my own pathetic longing for… anything, so long as it’s real.
Probably why I tell myself this works- our little arrangement. I know it’s why not a night goes by that we don’t share a bed and our bodies; why I keep coming back; why I tell myself this is enough and tell him that it’s meaningless.
He thinks that’s why my eyes always clench shut when I cum, and why I won’t kiss him or say his name. He doesn’t realize that I can’t look at him without some deep primal part of me aching, that lifetimes with my ‘Sires’ might ‘ave taught me to conceal with my body but my lips always betray me. He doesn’t understand that calling his name is tantamount to sacrilege or that my mind screams for him in seemingly endless longing
One day it will end. It has to- he deserves it. One day, someone will see just how special and wonderful he is, more importantly they’ll make him see.
---
I love to watch him when he sleeps- even now, when he’s pretending. He thinks I can’t tell. He thinks he’s fooling me just like he fools the others, but he doesn’t. I guess he doesn’t realize how often I’d watch him sleep before… this.
When he’s asleep, truly asleep, his emotions are so open. There’s so much pain and hurt in him; so different from the perfect front he puts up. Sometimes he actually smiles; not often and not enough for my tastes. I wish I could make him smile like that when he’s awake- when he’s with me. Hmph, I can’t even get him to look at me when we’re together.
It makes me wonder why he comes back night after night. I’d understand if it was just the sex, but he makes me feel so wonderful like I’m important and cared for and lo- like I matter. But then there’s that look of pained concentration, as if there’s some huge weight being forced upon him and I know it’s me.
That’s when this thing we have hurts most, when I see how deeply it hurts him.
---
Usually, when patrol ran late, he’d be curled in bed by the time I showed up. Tonight, though. Tonight he sat on the sofa, idly rolling an un-opened beer bottle between his large hands.
He didn’t look up as he spoke, asking the one question I could never answer, least not truthfully.
“What are we doing?”
When I don’t reply, he continues.
“Why do you come back?”
Shocked and confused, all I can do is stare.
“Why don’t you stop? I know you don‘t want this- me.”
I hear him whisper the last word and my demon howls, furious that it’s not allowed to take, to make the human understand that he is wanted and OWNED. Wordlessly, I sit next to my boy, reaching out to brush his dark hair.
He flinches away and something inside me breaks. “I’ll go.”
As I move to stand, a warm hand touches my arm and lightening chills run through me. And a voice as warm as honey speaks in hushed tones.
“Spike? Kiss me?”
And he’s in my arms and I’m not sure what I’m fighting against anymore. I’ve wanted this for so long, so I kiss him. His lips are on mine, real and strong and tender and my gods, I need this- need him
The kiss deepens, our tongues twining together, petting, and tasting. My entire being feeling at home and content for the first time that I can remember. Then my arms wrap around him as if his presence completes me, and maybe it does.
Title: Seeing
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG13 for mentions of boys playing with boys
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).
Warnings/Squicks: Angst
Summary: Getting the boys to see what’s right in front of them.
AN: Please forgive the Mys if this is sub-par, she's trying to force a couple of fics to finish themselves but the boys just wouldn't let me be, so this is more to apease the angry muses than to be great fic, lol.
---------
Sometimes when we’re together, bodies joined in their intricate dance, I feel it. It’s just a ghost of a thought- my own pathetic longing for… anything, so long as it’s real.
Probably why I tell myself this works- our little arrangement. I know it’s why not a night goes by that we don’t share a bed and our bodies; why I keep coming back; why I tell myself this is enough and tell him that it’s meaningless.
He thinks that’s why my eyes always clench shut when I cum, and why I won’t kiss him or say his name. He doesn’t realize that I can’t look at him without some deep primal part of me aching, that lifetimes with my ‘Sires’ might ‘ave taught me to conceal with my body but my lips always betray me. He doesn’t understand that calling his name is tantamount to sacrilege or that my mind screams for him in seemingly endless longing
One day it will end. It has to- he deserves it. One day, someone will see just how special and wonderful he is, more importantly they’ll make him see.
---
I love to watch him when he sleeps- even now, when he’s pretending. He thinks I can’t tell. He thinks he’s fooling me just like he fools the others, but he doesn’t. I guess he doesn’t realize how often I’d watch him sleep before… this.
When he’s asleep, truly asleep, his emotions are so open. There’s so much pain and hurt in him; so different from the perfect front he puts up. Sometimes he actually smiles; not often and not enough for my tastes. I wish I could make him smile like that when he’s awake- when he’s with me. Hmph, I can’t even get him to look at me when we’re together.
It makes me wonder why he comes back night after night. I’d understand if it was just the sex, but he makes me feel so wonderful like I’m important and cared for and lo- like I matter. But then there’s that look of pained concentration, as if there’s some huge weight being forced upon him and I know it’s me.
That’s when this thing we have hurts most, when I see how deeply it hurts him.
---
Usually, when patrol ran late, he’d be curled in bed by the time I showed up. Tonight, though. Tonight he sat on the sofa, idly rolling an un-opened beer bottle between his large hands.
He didn’t look up as he spoke, asking the one question I could never answer, least not truthfully.
“What are we doing?”
When I don’t reply, he continues.
“Why do you come back?”
Shocked and confused, all I can do is stare.
“Why don’t you stop? I know you don‘t want this- me.”
I hear him whisper the last word and my demon howls, furious that it’s not allowed to take, to make the human understand that he is wanted and OWNED. Wordlessly, I sit next to my boy, reaching out to brush his dark hair.
He flinches away and something inside me breaks. “I’ll go.”
As I move to stand, a warm hand touches my arm and lightening chills run through me. And a voice as warm as honey speaks in hushed tones.
“Spike? Kiss me?”
And he’s in my arms and I’m not sure what I’m fighting against anymore. I’ve wanted this for so long, so I kiss him. His lips are on mine, real and strong and tender and my gods, I need this- need him
The kiss deepens, our tongues twining together, petting, and tasting. My entire being feeling at home and content for the first time that I can remember. Then my arms wrap around him as if his presence completes me, and maybe it does.