Silk and Chains

by KW Jordan

Era: Post season seven (has nothin' to do with the comic books)

(Buffy's POV)

The scents of leather, oak, lavender and jasmine mingle together with our arousal in the air within the chalet. Her pulse is finally starting to slow from the thundering pace it picked up when she reached her climax. She takes on a feral expression that promises nothing but pleasure and seals her hungry, searching lips to mine. Her tongue tangles with mine and I offer myself up to her desire.

She lays me back on the silk sheets and they warm to the touch of my skin. Her hands, rough and hot, roam my body relentlessly. The length of her body lies along mine, pinning me to the bed. Her hips slip into the cradle of my thighs, grinding into the wet heat she finds there.

My soft sighs and long, guttural moans encourage her. The touch of her lips on the achingly hard tip of my breast makes me gasp and thread my fingers through her thick, wavy dark hair. My nails flex against her scalp with each scrape of her teeth over my throbbing nipples.

She gazes up at me with deep brown eyes that steal my breath and hold me captive as she makes her way further down. Her lips and tongue burn a trail over my sensitized flesh until she's faced with my desire. Her nostrils flare as she breathes in my sent and I groan.

"Please."

That single word torn from my throat gains a teasing, dimpling smile from her full lips. Her fingertips trail over my thighs, her strong hands guiding my legs over her muscular shoulders. I'm distracted for a moment by the contrast of my golden tanned skin against her pale olive-toned complexion. She pauses once more to catch my gaze and winks at me and then lowers her head.

My hips surge off the bed with the first touch of her tongue on my heated flesh and her arms hold me down across my waist. One of my hands presses her head closer as the other tangles in the sheets. How is it that sheets that had felt so good now feel like the roughest of wool?

"Good God, Faith."

Her lips wrap around my clit and I'm crying out loudly. None of it makes sense but she always seems to know what I want. She slips three long fingers into my depths and I meet the fast, hard pace she sets with jerky movements. The pressure building inside tells me that it won't be long.

Her tongue laps at the wetness now liberally pouring from me and my clit jerks at the mumbled words I can barely make out.

"Taste so fuckin' good, B. I gotta have more."

I lose myself in the sensations bombarding me. The only thing I'm aware of is how much I need her touch; of how much I need her. Then the darkness takes me and that knowledge is all I have for long moments. When I regain consciousness, her strong arms are holding me and I'm wrapped in the sheets.

"I love you," I murmur.

She gently moves the sweaty blonde hair from my eyes and places a gentle kiss on my lips. I feel a single tear drip onto my cheek from hers.

"I know," She replies with aching sadness.

I've never heard the words from her lips. I've seen it in her eyes, but she refuses to go there. She doesn't trust easily. Especially not me; there's too much history haunting us.

I know soon we'll get up and we'll dress. She'll go back to her apartment and I'll go back to the house where my family lives and no one will be any wiser. She's always said they wouldn't understand. I've agreed to go along with it because I'm afraid to lose her.

She bought the chalet not three weeks after our affair started. The reason why was immediately obvious the first time she brought me here. It's an hour and a half south of where we live so there's less chance of our getting caught by anyone.

It's beautiful. Set deep in a thick patch of woods and surrounded by wildlife, every window in the small chalet has a gorgeous view. She combined our tastes by putting rustic and classic together in an odd mix. She has her leather and oak furniture and I have my silk and cotton linens. But as much as I like it here, I've begun to despise what it represents.

Will we ever get passed the fear, the hatred, the secrets, and the lies? Is she right to be wary of our friends and my family's reactions? I don't know and the uncertainty is killing me. But I'll keep coming back to our secret place with its' silk sheets and feather soft pillows 'cause I can't let go.

I bury my face in her neck to hide the tears in my own eyes. She's wrapped my body in silk and bound her heart in chains.

(Faith's POV)

My apartment's completely dark when I get home. I sit on my couch and let the tears I held back when she was in my arms flow. I cover my face with my hands and that makes 'em come faster.

I breathe in her lingerin' scent on my skin and close my eyes against the ache beneath my breast. I hate leavin' her every time but my fear's cripplin' in its' intensity. There's so much I'm afraid of and I don't know if I could admit it to even her.

Her family and our friends wouldn't understand. And after everything I did? I can't find it in myself to blame 'em. But the thoughts of their reactions scare me more than Kakistos or The Beast ever did.

What if they convinced her that I ain't good enough for her? That she should leave me? I couldn't handle that. It would take me down faster than my own knife in my gut did.

I can't take much more of this. Not even my formidable stubbornness can hold up against those beautiful hazel eyes that break my heart each time she cries. So maybe there's hope for us yet. Somethin' will have to give eventually and I refuse to let go.

But for now, for right this minute? I'll just continue to bind my heart in chains and wrap her body in silk.

The End