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| Two 'Touched' drabbles - A Different Sort of Drug, In These Arms. | | | | abc + + + | | | A Different Sort of Drug
Its warmth spread throughout his body, infiltrating every crevice of his being until he felt he would burst with it. He brushed gentle kisses against her hair, murmuring soft words of devotion as she slept, her strong little hand resting against his unbeating heart. His eyes drifted slowly closed, even as he fought to remain alert, to commit every second to memory for all eternity. Spike surrendered to her presence; her unique scent, the soothing rhythm of her heart, the gentle sound of her breath, the warmth of her body and that which he had craved throughout his existence. Love.
In these arms.
His arms, his love, cradled her; the gentle touch of his hands running rhythmically through her hair soothed away the pain, uncertainty and regret. Softly whispered words drove away the last of the ghosts that had haunted her. How he could forgive her, trust her, and continue to love her after all she’d done—all they’d done—she didn’t know. That he did, was beyond doubt and something she swore to herself she would no longer take for granted. Her eyes closed as he soothed her gently into sleep, her fingers curling instinctively into his t-shirt, clutching him to her. | | | | |
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