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by Liz M


She walks this way, toward me. I can feel her presence from a mile off. I close my eyes to mask my emotions, not wanting anyone to see them, not wanting her to see them. She passes by me, without so much as a glance, a nod, a word and I cringe inside, a hurt so deep that it leaves me flawed. So much need, so much desire flooding to the surface but I push it down, I always push it down, hidden, dangerous, waiting to spring forth.

I watch her out of the corner of my eyes, straining to see her, straining to hear her, straining to feel the vibes her body throws off like knives. I can smell her perfume, my senses scream, my mouth dries up in anticipation, just one touch, just one. I hold my breath as she walks back by me, hoping for her to graze against me, give me one word, a little eye contact, something, anything, I'm not asking for a lot here.

I watch her secretly, every look, every move, all of her is in slow motion, every thing, every word, every touch, every smile is replaying over and over in my mind. The good, the bad, everything, if it was about her and me, I remember it all, it's forged permanently for all eternity.

I watch her talk and mingle with everyone, smiling, touching them, encouraging them to accept their calling, revel in it. She's like a magnet, pulling them in, entwining them in a web. I ought to know, I've been trapped in that web now for a couple of years.

Don't get me wrong, I might be trapped, weak even but I learned my place. I know where I don't fit in, where I never fitted in, where I'll never belong.

There are basically two types of people on earth, the one's you want to be near and the one's you don't. She's the former and I'm the latter. There are even different rules for the two classes of people and I'm a prime example.

I'll give you a couple just to show you what I mean. Take Giles for instance. He was called Ripper... and you don't get a name like that and not be able to back it up, you know. I can smell the blood and death emanating from his hands. Did he get judged? No. Did he go to jail? No He's one of the precious, the few. Take Willow, she went all evil, lost control. She killed a guy, tortured him even, right in front of her highness. Did she get judged? No. Did she go to jail? No. Were those two sliced and diced like meat to feed to the monsters? No. She's one of the precious few also. One kind of justice for them, another for someone like me. Oil and water, we don't mix, we never will... but still it's true that opposites attract, it's just not a mutual attraction.

And don't think that desire can't and won't drive you nuts. I'm like the poster child for that. Desire puts you so deep into a fantasy, that sometimes you lose the balance between reality and a dream. All you see is the want, take, have and get so caught up, that you're able to justify any action, as long as you get some kind of reaction, whether it's good or bad.

I watch the golden ones, see the light of the world shining upon them. I am chosen too, aren't I? Was I really a mistake? I was called, that means something, right? Right? Yeah, well maybe that's why she couldn't stay dead for long, the powers knew that I was a mistake, a complete fuckup. Look at them, looking at her like she's a God or something, sitting at her feet staring up at her in awe.

Who am I kidding, I'd sit at her feet too, only I'd run my hand up those legs, further and higher, in one end and out the other. That's what this is all about anyway, isn't it? Wanting to be inside of Buffy. To touch so much good. To make her soiled just like the rest of humanity, to surround her, engulf her and bring her to her knees, to make her finally see and acknowledge you.

She makes me crazy, they all make me crazy. Funny how watching something so stupid can make you happy and sick at the same time. It all boils down to attention, what they have, what she gives them, what they take. I laugh at the fools, half of them won't even be considered for placement in the golden gang. A few will make it but the rest, well they'll just be forgot, called in when their life is of some use. But until that time, they'll be alone, cold, hungry and when they finally get that invite, they'll run like dogs to lap at the feet of the chosen one. I know, I wrote the book. Toward the end when they have nothing left, no home, no shelter, no dignity, when their stomach's never rest from calling out it's need, they'll break, lose control, lose sanity and do whatever it takes to be a part of the group again, whether it's killing with the group or trying to kill the group. Maybe they'll turn to the enemy like I did, not that I liked that I did it...but having shelter, warmth, care , concern and the big one, a full stomach, well that's a hard thing to pass up.

I'm no angel, I saw horrors before I ever saw her. I was damaged before I got lost in the light, her light.

At first, I wanted to impress her. She was and is the 'shit', you know? I acted cocky, strong, pretending to be able to handle more than I could. Pretending, acting like a casual acquaintance but wanting and needing so much more. Hidden behind a calm bravado that failed me numerous times, on numerous occasions.

I'd catch a glimpse of her and the world would fall away. Slow moving frames would appear before my eyes like she was in a fucking music video. Eyes would catch mine, music would fill my head, any movement, any gesture, any word would become sexual, slow, torturous. I wasn't always running off to get some and get gone, sometimes, I'd just run far enough away to watch her from afar, safely tucked away, to fuel my fantasies. It was run or lunge, can't say I would've lived the lunge part down.

I'm only human, hell even the scoobs fell in love with her. Xan and Red, they both wanted to fuck her. I'm sure she teased the hell out of them, then pretended that she didn't understand 'why', giving them that, 'what did I do' look. Yeah right, like I believe that. I bet they'd still fuck her now, crawl up inside of her so fast, so deep, set up house. I've got one up on them though, I've been inside of her. I know what she tastes like, I still taste her on my lips, everytime I look at her, my mouth waters all over again. I remember the feel of her body, the curves, every freckle, every mole, every orafice, the smell, the texture, the taste. I can hear the way she sounds when she's close to climax, how she sighs, stiffens and falls limp. I can rub my fingers together and feel her nipples harden from my touch. Yeah, I remember being inside of her, deep inside. How I cupped her sex and plunged into her, how her juices filled my hand and my senses. How I want and crave more, how I want her to be there with me, how I want and need way more than I'll ever get.

Luckily for me, I have a good imagination and memory. I can still feel her quickening around my fingers, pulsing, throbbing against my hand. I can put my fingers to my nostrils and breathe in her aroma, press my fingers to my lips and taste her essence, strong, pungent but sweetly intoxicating, almost bittersweet, such an acquired taste and one that I acquired fast and furiously, one that I recall numerously and that I hunger for still.

I watch her and smile, knowing that there is not one inch of her lovely frame that I did not pleasure, touch and fill. I mapped our her entire being and body internally, eternally. I know what makes her twitch. What side of her clit is more pleasurable, how to hook and rock my hand against her, how much depth is needed, what makes her pop instantly and just how much she can take.

My mind and body war over who gets to be in control. My body screams, 'take her, make her, beg her if you have too.' My mind screams, 'hold back, don't lose what little bit of dignity you have left, don't throw away what little bit of redemption you've earned.' My heart gets into the mix, saying, 'fuck you both! Fuck caution, risk it!' The mind always wins out. I force the other two deep down inside, suffering, burying it deep, where only glimpses are seen at times, where you have to know it in order to see it, or just ignore it altogether. I'm pretty sure she chose to ignore it. Couldn't get much more obvious if I'd of used a 2 x 4.

Someone sits next to me. I know it's 'her'. I felt a wave of heat flow around me as the seat shifted under the weight. Chills envelope me, my heart quickens, excitement builds in the pit of my stomach. I turn to look at her, the gang, the newly called slayers, the bus, the whole world, melts away. I know she's talking but her words are hitting deaf ears. I can see her lips moving, see the flutter of her tongue beneath those lips and I remember how soft and pliant it felt as it sucked against my fingers, how it rubbed them, caressed them, how her mouth drained the sticky juice, completely, one finger at at time. I see her eyes widen, a look of shock and confusion plays over her features. I'm pretty sure I growled low and feral, I'm pretty sure my southern region just became swollen, aroused and extremely slick. I look at her, tapping my fingers, tapping my feet, anxious, hungry, like's she's on the menu, she's sustenance.

She' taken aback questioning if I heard anything that she was saying. I nod no and continue to lightly lick my bottom lip. She stares deep into me, the deeper she looks the more aroused I get, the more I unravel, the more my body betrays me. She reaches out and touches my leg. I ignite, body flaming, nostrils flare, skin flushes beyond a normal blush. Body heat bounding off of me with such force it knocks her hand and body off of and back away from me.

She continues to stare as my fingers unconsciously rub against each other, remembering her feel, her flesh. I'm losing the battle, I'm no longer hid behind a mask of indifference. She knows. I know she does, maybe too much. She reddens and lowers her gaze, just sitting there next to me, still. We continue the long ride, sitting side by side, silently, letting the tension build around us.

I reach over and drag a finger down her arm. She jerks, coming out of her daze. Her eyes remain fixed with mine, pouring into me, they flicker, change and I know her mind just won out. I can see what she thinks of me glowing behind the glare of her eyes. Fear envelopes her and she makes a hasty retreat, back to the pretty, precious ones, the one's that matter. She nervously glances at me from time to time and all she's see's is an animal that wants to devour her.

I smile at her devilishly, smell and lick my fingers for her benefit.

You're gonna be mine, soon honey, some day soon!

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