Written for blue_larkspur's birthday and fondly dedicated to her.
Marks of Perfection
Like in the song, the weather outside was frightful. A lot of snow,
even more wind, and temperatures that made any reasonable person want
to curl up in front of a roaring fire. By a beautiful coincidence,
Buffy had such a fire, and was currently enjoying its warmth, oblivious
to the snowstorm outside.
The electricity had disappeared long ago, but the cabin was well
stocked in candles and wood. Despite its casual aspect, the little
house was very comfy, not a single draft bringing in the cold air from
outside, and small enough that the chimney made it pleasantly warm.
Warm enough, actually, for it occupants to be lounging, naked as the
day they were born, on the (faux) fur rug by the chimney.
There had been lovemaking, earlier, and it certainly had added to the
heat of the room. Then there had been talking, words shared in love,
sweet memories and even sweeter hopes for the future, a few laughs,
some more kissing. Now, her lover was asleep, his face turned toward
her, the barest smile lingering on his lips, and Buffy was simply
watching him.
He was the one, usually, who watched her as she slept. Often, she had
awoken to find his eyes just in front of her, twinkling in delight and
so full of love. It was her turn, and she planned to leave no part of
him untouched by her gaze.
His hair was mussed up from sleep and their earlier activities, the
blonde curls covering his forehead. The barest hint of dark honey was
beginning to show at the roots. She found it adorable, but she knew
from experience that, as soon as he noticed it in the mirror, he would
bleach his hair again.
His face, she knew well enough to draw from memory, she thought, had
she had any talent at all to draw. The sharp angles were softened by
sleep and happiness, giving his strength an oddly fragile look. Her
finger hovered above the white line that scarred his eyebrow, tracing
it without contact. A flaw, some might have said. A beauty mark, she
silently retorted.
Her gaze slid next down his neck, ignoring the scars beating with his
pulse to glide to the elegant curve of a shoulder. Another faded mark.
A small frown marring her brow, she looked closer, and began to take
note of all the pale scars, most of them guessed rather than truly
seen, that adorned his body. With his skin having taken some color
under the Caribbean sun, they were more visible that they had been when
his complexion was so pale. She had seen them before, inflicted a few
herself, but until that instant she had never realized how much the
years had marked him. A fighter, yes, no doubt about it.
Unable to simply look any more, she began tracing the lines with her
lips, kissing each of them, thanking vampire’s healing for allowing him
to survive, heal, and become hers while keeping only faint reminders of
his past. A past that they both acknowledged, but had agreed to set
aside to enjoy this new life to its fullest extent.
A slight murmur of contentment passed his lips, and she raised her head just in time to see his eyelashes flutter.
“My Slayer,” he mumbled, a name that had become so rare lately, but
that for some reason she still enjoyed hearing when it slipped past his
lips.
She gave him a smile, and resumed her so delightful task of worshipping his body, only pausing to ask:
“Did you know you are perfect?”
Home ~ Cleveland 'verse
The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.
