"Sanctify - I Will Love You"

Author: Vatrixsta Cruden
Contact: trixieangelsomething@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: 'I will love you', by Fisher. I heartily recommend you hunt it down and give it a listen. Oh, and the poem is, once again, that Pablo Neruda guy.
The Usual Suspects: Esmerelda, Serena, Kaz, and Dru -- You guys... There are no words. (And you *will* get thank you gifts in the form of more fic)
Dedication: To Starla, 'cause she called me on my deal, and to Serena, 'cause . . . IT'S HER BIRTHDAY! Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy! < sings loudly and off-key > Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Sereeeennaaaaaaaa -- Happy Birthday to you!

'til my body is dust
'til my soul is no more
i will love you, love you
'til the sun starts to cry
and the moon turns to rust
i will love you, love you

Buffy woke, spooned naked against Angel's strong chest, his hands spread possessively over her body; one rested low on her abdomen, the other cupped itself around her left breast. His mouth pressed dry, adoring kisses to her neck, just below her hairline and she shut her eyes in relief and gratitude that the whole of last night had not been some beautiful dream.

Once he'd sensed she was awake, his thumb began to trace gentle circles around her still-abraded nipple, and she couldn't help the hiss of pain < maybe not =all= pain > that left her mouth.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. However, his hands did not leave her body, like she had expected his guilt to demand. Prodding her hip, he urged her to roll onto her back. His hand returned to the curve of her waist, resting lightly against the front of it, his other getting lost in her hair, combing gently through sleep-tossed tangles.

The expression on his face was solemn, and the quiet stillness of the morning, broken not even by their habit of unnecessary breath, took on an almost holy quality. His head lowered to her chest, and he reverently laved at her nipple with his tongue; pulled the tiny bud into his mouth with the utmost gentleness; swirled his tongue around it in the most soothing caress Buffy had ever felt.

Cooing at the sensation, Buffy wound her fingers through his hair, holding him against her. His intent was not to arouse, apparently, for he stopped before it started feeling =really= good, moved on to her neglected breast, and gave it equal attention. His mouth moved outward from her nipples, taking in the rest of her abused flesh. Soon, she realized what he was doing, and it brought tears to her eyes.

When he pressed his mouth against the savage bite mark on her throat, those tears spilled over her cheeks. His tongue took great, long licks over the ragged tear that hadn't even begun to heal, and she was reminded of a big cat < dangerous black panther with gentle paws > attending its mate.

His mouth moved to her shoulders, kissing wetly over their tips. He did not offer another apology; instead, he began to whisper solemnly against her skin, his words slightly muffled by his refusal to part lips from flesh.

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off;"

More tears fell from the corners of her eyes and streaked down until they disappeared into her finger-combed hair. These were not tears made up of sorrow or pain, but rather of love and release. It didn't matter why he was quoting this particular passage < how does he know how does he always know exactly what I need he's magic he has to be magic there's no other logical explanation for it >; it only mattered that he was.

Where once his teeth tore into her flesh, he now let them nibble bluntly at her skin until she gigglecried at how it tickled so perfectly. His hands in her hair, once punishing, practically tearing it from her scalp, now lifted her head gently to receive his kiss; combed through the tangles that remained with great care as he kissed, kissed, kissed, kissed her.

He seemed determined to pay a special homage to her bruised, cut lips. Pulling first her upper, then lower lip into his mouth, he sipped at them wetly, bringing his tongue out to trace each and every hurt, then sweep it away with long, smooth licks. It was as arousing as it was soothing, and she pressed her thighs together to ease the ache he caused.

Chuckling against her mouth, he slid one of his big, deadly hands along her body until he reached her legs. He urged them apart, and she obeyed, letting them splay wide on the bed. His hand did not touch her where she wished, instead sliding back up to play with the ends of her hair; occasionally drifting to tickle her sides, just beneath her arms.

And, as his mouth reluctantly parted from hers in search of new territories to worship, he began his litany anew:

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

Achingly soft, slow kisses were delivered to specific patches of skin on her face, and she knew he was aware of every blow he had delivered to her body. The bruise that had marred her cheekbone for a few days was no longer visible, but the perfect memory he seemed to carry unerringly led him to the exact path the discoloration had once taken. His soft, perfect lips brushstroked back and forth and he let those soft words of love serve as both apology and benediction.

Did he know how his voice whispering these words had kept her sane during that terrible night without his soul?

Did it really matter?

No, she decided as he took tiny mouthfuls of her earlobes; nothing mattered as long as he never left her again.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where."

Her left arm came first. He lifted it gently and covered every inch of flesh he encountered with soft wet suction. He paid special attention to the places where he'd once made her bleed, then moved to her hand. Cradling it between both his palms, he pressed tiny kisses to the tips of each of her fingers. A chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles followed, then a low, open-mouthed adoration to her palm; the pulse point on her wrist that no longer beat.

One by one, he sucked each of her fingers into his mouth in turn. He gave each generous attention, sliding them wetly in and out, the visual of which made her long to rub her thighs together again. His silent wishes, however, kept her legs right where they were. He seemed to enjoy having her spread before him like a feast.

After he'd finished with her right arm, he moved inward, laving the skin between her breasts with his rough jungle cat-tongue. He took a few more gentle passes over her nipples, for good measure, encouraging arousal as well as healing from her now. Her response was guaranteed; just thinking about his hands and mouth on her flesh had her wet and wanting in seconds.

Caressing her abdomen with care, he let his palm rest over her womb as he pressed gentle kisses to the curve of her belly. It would never hold life, and she wept for that, as well as the tenderness he showed in paying homage to something so dead inside of her. But she had already cried for the children they would never have, had done so years ago, when she'd first realized vampires couldn't work for the telephone company or have little vampires.

"I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way "

He avoided the thrust of her hips toward him; moved past her wet < openachingpleaseplease > sex, trailing his mouth over the fronts of her thighs, her kneecaps, the delicate bone of her shins. Down one leg, and up the other, he moved back and forth until he reached her feet. Unable to resist, she curled one of them against the side of his face, awkwardly cupping his cheek. He rewarded her with a gentle smile, then turned his face inward, kissing the arch of her foot wetly.

Onward he moved, teardrop kisses encompassing every inch of her tiny foot. Soon, he began to lick and nibble at the sensitive skin and she nearly arched off the bed at the sensation. < oh my god feet are erogenous zones how the hell did I miss that?! > Her toes were given the same treatment he'd lavished on her fingers, and soon he was finished with both feet and he began to make his way back up.

Urging her to roll over again, he began a new pilgrimage. Over the sharp juts of her shoulder blades, along the line of her spine, his mouth followed the path of his hands. He was sanctifying all that had been burnt to ash, sweeping away the decay with selfless touch and worshipful kiss, leaving nothing but bliss in his wake.

And still, he gave her back his beautiful words.

"that this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep "

Upon reaching the soft curve of her rear, he lingered. Nuzzled the firm globes with his cheek. Purred contentedly as he gave her a playful bite. She giggled and arched her hips back against him, encouraging his exploration. He bent his head and slid his tongue between the cheeks of her bottom, giving her a slow, sinful lick that did bring her hips off the bed, and forced a sound she'd never made before from her mouth.

Before she had processed, his mouth had moved on to the backs of her thighs. He was continually drawn to the sticky wetness that had spilled down the backs of her thighs, and he began to lap at it, causing her womb to contract with want < moremoregodmoreplease >. Then, he was gone again, tickling the backs of her knees, and she couldn't hold back her laughter from him, not when he was clearly so desperate for it.

In no time, he was rolling her onto her back again. He did not tease this time; instead, he took her hips in his hands and urged her thighs apart with the gentle nuzzling of his face against the wiry hair covering her groin. She spread herself wide open for him, throwing her legs comfortably over his shoulders. This place, this soft, intimate place, had been damaged most of all.

The previous night's activities had been necessary, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't sore. That soreness was nothing compared to the ache she'd had to have him inside her, but it was still present, still persistent in reminding her of the pain that had come before. Then came the first pass of his tongue over her wet flesh, and she gasped at how much it did NOT hurt, at how keenly aware it made her of how precious she was to him.

Little laps at first, followed by gentle swirls over her badly tortured clit. He had nicked it with his fangs, before, and now he paid it substantial apology with gentle flicks and soft kisses. His tongue moved lower, dipped deeper into her and laved over torn-but-healing tissue. Now, the fine edge of pain balanced the pleasure perfectly, and the pitch had her keening his name in moments.

It was not enough for him, and he did not so much as pause while she rode out her climax; instead, he helped bring her down, then immediately began building her pleasure again. Long, slow, agonizing strokes of his tongue against her heightened flesh; his long fingers sliding beneath her body on the bed, gathering bits of her wetness from behind; tracing the line between the puckered rosebud within her cheeks, back to the juices she was giving off in abundance. Back and forth, sliding, dipping, teasing, playing in time with the sucklickswirl of his mouth.

When she came this time, he did not give her a chance to recover. He doubled his efforts, increasing pace and pressure until she was mewling his name in inarticulate little bursts of sound, one hand clutching the sheets of the bed, the other buried against his scalp, holding him to her < don't go don't go never go never stop > with a desperate grip.

Tears poured down her cheeks, forever lost in the brand-new pleasure-tangles in her hair. This, then, was a place beyond bliss; a place that only he could take her. It was beyond love, beyond pleasure, beyond God. His single-minded devotion, his adoration, his simple, pure love flowed into her everywhere his body touched hers and it eased the last of the sorrow she'd felt from her veins as though he were nursing from them.

She lost track of time, of how many times, of her name, of where she was. It was possible that he lulled her into a satisfaction so deep that she fell asleep. Whatever the case, the next clear memory she had was of his mouth sliding back up her body until it was again pressed against hers. Both her arms wound around his neck, pulling him to her with gratitude and an adoration returned and tripled in the wake of his perfectly articulate apology.

Her lips pressed to his ear, and she smiled against his flesh; nuzzled her cheek to his, because if he was a big cat, and she his mate, that meant she ought to show affection in kind.

"You know what this means, right?" she whispered quietly, loathe to break the perfect stillness surrounding them.

"Tell me," he implored, brushing his nose back and forth over his mark on the side of her neck.

"You've got to come up with some new material," she got out before she began giggling again. As bizarre as it was, she could not remember ever being this =perfectly= fucking happy.

He raised his head far enough to look her in the eye. He gifted her with a rarely beautiful smile, and as she looked at his soul, spread before her on his wide-open face, she thought she detected contentment there. Contentment in having made her happy; in having given back to her something that he had taken away.

"I'll give you a new verse every day for eternity," he vowed softly. "It still won't be enough to express how much I truly love you."

A lot of guys would have sounded trite saying that. He didn't. Maybe because he actually meant it. That was probably it, she decided. Most guys couldn't get away with it because they weren't even close to meaning it.

"I don't need verses," she told him honestly.

"What do you need, then?" He sounded so earnest. "If it's within my power... hell, even if it's not."

She smiled at him gently; it amused her, in that moment, that he still didn't get it.

Hooking her fingers over his ears, she tugged at them. "C'mere," she instructed, in that voice she remembered him once calling 'little-girl-husky'.

Their lips touched, and she released his ears to gain purchase over much more bountiful patches of flesh. She loved his back.

Sometime over the next day they spent in bed, she managed to convince him that all she would ever need was everything that he was; for all time.

No more, and certainly no less.

and I need to know - will you stay for all
time...forever and a day
then I'll give my heart 'til the end of all
time...forever and a day
'til the storms fill my eyes
and we touch the last time
i will love you, love you...

The End

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