by Whistler's Girl
Disclaimer: I disclaim to own the creations of Joss. Or anything else
for that matter.
Spoilers: Some references.
Author's Notes: Sequel to `Love You Enough (To Leave You)', `Gone But Not Forgotten', `The Right Place To Stay', `If Only You Knew' and `For The Moment' I suggest reading them or this might not make too much sense.
"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we might win, by fearing to attempt." - Measure for Measure, Shakespeare
Faith has always been like a thousand July's to me. Hot, passionate, desirable and injurious. That night she came back was like a night spent swimming through the scorching sun, and then the aftermath was like plunging straight into a lake of thin ice.
For countless hours it was all give and take, share and care, touch and feel. It is in the early afternoon I finally turn to her and ask where she had been, where she'd gone, what she'd been up to.
An apology clouds her eyes even before she tells me that she never left the city, that she was right here in sunny LA the whole time; she didn't leave the city because she would miss me too much. How ridiculous does that sound? She took off because she wanted what was best for me and then she decided to just live a few miles away because she'd miss me. Why'd she leave at all?
I shout all this at her, sitting up in bed, hugging a pillow against my chest and staring at her with what I could only imagine to be vehement hurt and rage. I'm demanding answers and she won't give them to me.
She won't even look at me.
Christ, I don't expect her to. She just takes the yelling, the tears as though it was what she came back for. She probably likes it. She never did say no to rough play when it was on offer, why would she say no now? She's just playing me – she is *always* playing me! She's just here, treating me like a wind up doll. It's like a great big turn on for her – reeling me in and pushing me away. Yeah, that's probably what it is.
I pounce on Faith and straddle her waist, my hands wrapping around her neck with no real grip, pushing her back against the pillows. I grin down at her, wriggling just a little bit, and I love the look of confusion in her eyes. I have the power here. I can hurt her as much as I want to. I can make her feel exactly what I felt.
"Still liking the dominance thing, Faith?"
I release her neck and slowly run my fingers through her hair, pulling her head so her mouth meets with mine…almost. My tongue darts out, flicking her top lip and then I push her back down, lazily dragging my hands across her shoulders, along her collar bone and down over her breasts, my fingertips tracing the air around her nipples. I grab her wrists quickly before she can even think about trying to touch me, and I hold them above her head.
"You want me back?" I ask, leaning down ever so slowly. Right now, this is starting to hurt me. I can't believe I'm even considering this. This past year all I've wanted is for…and now I just…no. I won't let her do this to me. Not again. I am not a phase – she needs to know this.
She's blown it.
I stretch myself over her, my breasts pressing against hers, my lips pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. I can feel her heartbeat thundering through her chest in synchronisation with mine. Fast, furious, fiery. Hers is in love, desire, anxiety. Mine in love, hate, anger.
"I know how much you want me back."
The room is spinning outrageously fast and my blood is burning through my veins, my mind blind by the anger she's sending through me in pulsation's. She hisses in pain suddenly and I register that my fingernails are digging into the flesh of her wrists. My first instinct is to release them and kiss them better, but I act on my second…I add more pressure.
"You want me back so much it's killing you."
I nip at her bottom lip, never breaking the eye contact. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. She's trapped me with her eyes – or maybe it's the other way around and I've trapped her with mine. I grind myself against her and she groans whilst I chuckle and kiss bite her lip, kissing her and draw a line up the left side of her face with my tongue. I press my forehead hard against hers and grind into her again. I gotta stop this now or I'll never show her who's in charge here. She thinks she has control over the relationship just because she came back and we fucked?
No, she's right. She's *so* right and I hate her because she's right. I want her to want me back. I need her to need me. I love her loving me.
I hate her for doing this to us.
I grit my teeth and still myself, my stare cold. My heart cracks at the shadow of doubt and sadness in her eyes. She knows what I'm going to say before I say it.
"You've blown it, Faith."
I push myself off of her, staring at her for a long painful moment. I don't mean this and I know it. Why am I so screwed up? Oh yeah – because she did this to me. She's made me this way and I…wish I could take back the past half hour so we could get back together and stay that way.
I scramble off of the bed, pulling on the black robe that's crumpled up on the floor beside the bed. A habit I learned off of Faith. She always used to tell me that putting away things that are used frequently into neat piles or places is just a waste of time, because in five minutes you're gonna need it again. So basically the robe has rare visits to the hook on the inside of the bathroom door.
I tie the rope around my waist and turn around, seeing her still there, her eyes hollow and hopeless. I scoff at her.
"What're you waiting for, a signed confirmation? Get the hell out!"
Ouch. I think that hurt me more than it hurt her. She's quick to get up and get dressed. I never take my eyes off of her, remembering her curves, imprinting her beauty in my mind. Like I need to do that? She's never vanished from my mind since day one, all those years ago in The Bronze when I saw her the first time. Hypnotised is the word, I think.
"Can't you move any faster?"
I hurry across the room and pick up Faith's boots and jacket, shoving them into her arms and then start pushing her towards the door. Why isn't she back-chatting me? Why isn't she throwing sarcastic remarks back at me? Why isn't she being Faith?
I yank the door open and shove Faith out, feeling my soul go out with her once again. It's like a thread from my heart is hooked onto her, and the further she goes the more it unravels because it'll never release itself.
She turns around slowly just as I'm about to close the door and her eyes lock with mine. God it hurts.
My hand shoots up to stop her from saying anything more. I can't listen to her right now, not ever. My arm drops to my side. I smirk at her and sigh, shrugging my shoulders.
"I love you too, Faith. That's why I'm doing this. For your own good. I'm sure you'll understand."
And I slam the door in her face.
Sometimes I wish I stayed dead...because without Faith I might as well be.
...continued in Flying On Melted Wings...