Thanks to Marie-Claude, my smut cheerleader.

* * *

"I'm afraid it's a vampire bite. And I think it's mine."

Silence.

The room was soundless. Except for the breathing and heartbeat

of one person. Randy realized that, if he did breathe, he would

have been holding his breath for her reaction. He could only

imagine ferocity of response suitable for a vampire hunter being

told she had been bitten, scarred by a vampire. By her partner

no less. And that was just the base mechanics of it all.

When minutes passed, and she did not speak, Randy prodded,

"Joan?"

Another half minute passed until she spoke.

"It's okay," she said softly. "No, really," she asserted, off

his disbelieving expression. "I don't remember when it happened,

but I FEEL it's okay. Like there was a reason for it. An

important reason. Life, death, love. Something big. Something

good."

Randy sighed in relief. Now for the more sticky part of the

revelation. He grimaced at the bad mental pun. He flipped

through the book again, avoiding the lurid illustrations, finding

instead the text he hoped would give his explanation some form.

"It's fairly obvious, from yours and your sister's relationship

with my father and from the way we fight together that we know

and trust each other." Joan nodded her agreement. "And while I

cannot be sure, from what I've seen, and read, and *felt*, all

the signs point to a, um, special relationship between you and

me. It's… um…"

Randy could feel himself floundering. The topic was so very

-intimate-. He decided to change his tack. He took a seat from

around the table and motioned for Joan to join him. "It's

complicated. And it will take a while to explain. Come sit."

Joan looked at him, at the book in his hand. "Gee, Randy, you

want me to sit on your lap so you can tell me a bedtime story?"

She made a face. "Why did that sound WAY more innocent in my

head?"

She was grinning as she crossed the room to where he sat. He

quirked an eyebrow at her as she ignored the other chair and

settled onto his lap.

"What?" Buffy said. "No being prude-y English guy here. If

you've been chewing on my neck, I think my sitting on your lap is

not so terribly shocking," she concluded in a mock-English

accent.

"Right then." Randy give her a warm smile. He placed the book

on the table, finding the page they needed to read. He took a

moment to inhale the fragrance of her skin, her hair. Not so

ironically, the shoulder he was peering over was the scarred

one. The sight of the mark gave him the impetus to continue. He

began to read aloud, softly.

***Of all the vampiric behaviours, Mating is perhaps the least

well known, yet probably the most intriguing. Amongst vampires,

a mate is usually chosen from amongst most favoured childer, or,

in the case of Inter-Order alliances, from the childer of another

Master Vampire.***

***The rarest form of Mating occurs between a vampire and a

human. Vampires who chose human mates often turn their mates

after a time, especially when confronted with the advancing years

of said mate, or a challenge for power within the Order.***

"Randy?" Joan's voice was soft as she looked up from the book.

He as much felt the vibration as he heard the sound. "Do you

think, maybe... You're a Master Vampire, aren't you?" Her face

turned slightly to him; he could feel the softness of her breath

against his own lips. She leaned back slightly against his

chest, gaining a better view of his face.

"I... I don't know, Joan. I can't be certain." The only thing

he was certain of was that the more he examined his feelings for

the girl on his lap, the more he knew she belonged to him.

"I think you are. I don't think you could be anything else," she

stated quietly, equal parts pride and something else in her

voice. Something like... Either way, her assurance warmed him.

He forged ahead, reading from the book.

***Mating between a vampire and a human is facilitated by an

exchange of blood, but on a smaller scale than that which creates

childer. The exchange usually occurs in conjunction with vaginal

intercourse in the case of a male/female mating, sodomy in--***

"Hell!" Randy said, loudly, making Joan startle on his lap.

"T.M.I."

Joan giggled, and settled back against him. He shook his head

then looked down at the book. Skimming, he found another

relevant passage.

***Most often in Mating, bloodletting is from the jugular vein,

as Mating Marks are meant to be visible, as a sign of protection

and possession. The vampire pierces the skin as in a customary

bite, usually at the point of sexual climax. However, upon

removal of the fangs, the skin is purposely torn, as to create a

distinctive scar.***

Randy kept his voice steady, but could not keep from wincing.

His free hand slipped to Joan's throat, brushing against the

scar, making soothing motions, as if the motions of his hand now

could erase the pain he knew must have accompanied the marking.

Beneath his fingers, he could feel the accelerated pulse, and the

light sheen of perspiration that had begun to coat Joan's skin.

"Warm, pet?" he asked, noting her flushed cheeks.

"Just keep reading," Joan commanded Randy softly, wriggling

slightly, leaning in to the touch of his hand.

***The amount of blood required for a human mate to take in the

exchange is minimal, not usually requiring the vampire to score a

vein. A particularly ardent kiss will often rend a vampire's

lips against his own fangs, providing sufficient blood for

Mating. Once blood is exchange, the vampire and the mate often

sequester themselves for several days, the mate meeting all of

the vampire's sexual and nutritional requirements.***

Joan's hand had risen, her fingers brushing across her own lips

in time to his stroke against her scar. "Vampire honeymoon?" she

whispered.

"So it seems." Randy's hand continued to stroke the mark on her

neck as he read to himself, summarizing for Joan. "It says,

after Mating, the vampire and his mate are virtually

inseparable. They do everything together. They need to be

together. Need to, to stay… close…"

Randy's already soft voice trailed off at the end of the

sentence. In the electric silence, he leaned forward to place

his lips on the soft, flawless skin just over the scar. Joan

made a tiny, keening noise at the contact of his cool lips on her

heated skin; a kiss placed so close yet not -on- the sensitive

mark.

"So you're saying… um..." Joan's voice was breathy, strained,

her breathing shallow. "You and I… we, um…"

Randy felt Joan's blood singing beneath his lips. He placed an

open-mouthed kiss where neck joined shoulder, and then let his

tongue dip into the hollow above her collarbone.

"Yes," he murmured against the skin of her shoulder. "We. Made.

Love. " He punctuated his words with a series of hard, nipping

kisses along the tendon of her neck. "You gave me your blood…

and I gave you my mark."

Joan pressed her lips together, but a whimper escaped her

nonetheless.

Randy hissed in pleasure against her throat when he felt her

press herself harder into his lap. Joan's fingertips left her

own lips, moving to thread themselves in his hair, press his

mouth harder against her skin. Something inside Randy

whispered. 'Feel this. This is what you are meant for. What

she is meant for.' He felt the change begin to come over his

features. His fangs itched for the soft flesh, the sweet blood

beneath his lips.

"Randy…" she breathed. "Please."

TBC

TITLE: "Randy + Joan 4 Ever" (3/?)

AUTHOR: Steph

RATING: R (for smut)

SPOILERS: Tabula Rasa

PAIRING: Randy/Joan

SUMMARY: Randy has a revelation.

FEEDBACK: Please!!!! at sweill@aol.com

ARCHIVE: Pangur Ban, and wherever else.

Thanks to all the folks who sent feedback. You keep me writing!

And to Marie-Claude for uberBeta.

***

"Randy…" she breathed. "Please."

"Joan." He whispered her name in return. It sounded strange,

emerging as it was from behind his fangs. It gave him pause. He

pulled away from her, his hand falling away from her throat.

"Look at me." He insisted, "See what I am. Are you sure this is

what you want? That -I- am what you want?"

Joan let out a shuddering breath, a shiver skimming down her

spine as she noticed his silky voice assuming the sibilance that

spoke of his gameface. She turned slightly in his lap, looking

steadily, expectantly at him.

Randy was heartened by her calm acceptance of his changed

features. He continued, low and intent. "I feel things for you,

pet. Deep, strong, dark things. Not the stuff of fairy tales...

perhaps more that of cautionary ones with lurid illustrations..."

He paused a moment, thinking of the book that had gotten them to

this point. He gave her a small, wry smile. "And while the story

of a vampire redeeming himself after falling in love with a

slayer might fall squarely into the category of fairy tale, I'm

not sure a 'happily ever after' is possible..." Randy's voice

trailed off as what he had said registered with him. There was no

point in denying it, he realized. "I... I love you, Joan. With

all that I am. With all that I aspire to be... Be sure about

this. We're talking about forever."

He had barely finished speaking when she slid from his lap. He

couldn't help but close his eyes against the pain searing through

his undead heart. They snapped open when he felt her weight

return to his lap.

Joan stared into Randy's amber eyes. She gave him a small smile

as she draped one arm over his shoulder, her hand moving to

caress the back of his neck. With the other hand she drew

whispersoft patterns across the ridges of his forehead.

Teasingly light, her fingers then danced down the bridge of his

nose to trace the sharp angles of his cheekbones. When his tongue

darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips, her fingers traveled

there, skating along the cool, damp surface.

When Randy's lips parted beneath her touch, she slipped a finger

just inside, tracing the line of fangs still hidden by chill

lips. She felt him shudder slightly as she traced the sharp

contours with a fingernail. Licking her own lips, she drew closer

to him.

Randy could feel the warmth of her breath across his face as she

closed the distance between them. The caress of her fingers on

his ridges had touched him more than he could have imagined. She

flicked a nail across an incisor, making his whole body quake

with desire. Love and lust roared through him as she managed an

eloquent, wordless reply to his question. Yes. She knew what he

was. And she wanted him.

Her lips were warm against his. Hot, even. And in constant

motion. Trailing heat and moisture, as they pressed against his

in an ardent kiss. Then her parted lips skimmed from jaw line to

cheekbone, across the bumps and ridges of his forehead, then back

down his nose. Returning to his she slipped the tip of her tongue

inside, seeking his fangs.

Randy sat quietly under Joan's touch, wonderingly accepting her

attentions to his ridges, and now fangs; both areas so sensitive

to touch that he'd become startlingly aroused, achingly hard

beneath her. As he let her control the pace of the kiss, he

rested his hands on her hips, occasionally squeezing her in

silent praise of her ministrations.

Joan reached for one of Randy's hands, intent on bringing it to

her breast. The lapse caused her to nick herself against one of

his fangs. At the taste of Joan's blood, Randy's body stiffened

beneath hers, his hips coming briefly off the chair, arching his

hardness against her. Her startled moan sounded more of

arousal than fear, and as his hips settled back into the chair;

Joan writhed against him, keeping her mouth pressed to his.

Randy savored the deep, wet, blood-tinged kiss. When Joan pulled

back for much-needed oxygen, she could see the stain of red on

his pale lips, a spot he removed with a flick of his tongue and

an expression of near ecstasy. A shudder ran through her at

sight. She licked her own lips, wincing slightly as she

encountered the small wound.

Randy watched Joan's face as she tongued the small nick in her

lip, worrying it with her tongue. It made him even harder, if

that were possible. Randy reached up, gently placing a finger

against the wound. He inhaled sharply at the feel of Joan's

warm, rough tongue against his sensitive fingertip. She brought

her hands up to hold his wrist, move his finger along her swollen

bottom lip. She drew his finger back and forth along the moist

inside of her lip and then stopped, taking the tip into her

mouth, sucking at it. Joan met Randy's eyes over their clasped

hands, her gaze hot, dark. When she nipped him with her strong

white teeth, he snatched his finger from her mouth, replacing it

with his tongue in a frenzied kiss.

For endless minutes they explored each other's mouths and soon,

bodies. Until it was no longer enough.

"I..." he began, his voice a soft growl. "I need you." He pushed

up against her softness as punctuation. "I need to be inside

you... Please, Joan." He kissed her, then trailed his lips down

her throat, hovering over her scar. "Let me have you again."

"I need to be inside you... Please, Joan," Randy pleaded. He

kissed her, then trailed his lips down her throat, hovering over

her scar. "Let me have you again."

Joan shuddered at his words, and at the feel of the flat of his

tongue as it swiped wetly along her neck. Unconsciously,

instinctively, her head fell back, giving him better access to

her throat, to the silken length of skin marred only by the bite

mark. Randy tangled his hand in her golden hair, supporting her

head as he kissed and licked at her scar. "Be mine, " he

whispered against her skin.

"Yours," Joan breathed.

Randy pulled her in for a deep hard kiss while his adoring hands

made their way over all of her body within his reach. He paused

at her breasts, palming the soft mounds, running his thumbs over

the hardened nipples. Then, suddenly, his hands were under her

armpits, lifting her to stand alone.

Joan whimpered, a confused expression on her face as stepped back

towards him, trying to sink back onto his lap. Randy held her at

arms length, hands on her hips. He held her gaze, then looked

past her to the book-strewn table. He cocked his head to the

side, willing her to understand his wordless entreaty. He let a

mischievous smile steal across his face as he pushed with one

hand, pulled with the other, turning her to face away from him.

She stood still for a moment, and then looked back at him over

her shoulder. She smiled.

Randy returned her smile as he settled her into his lap. He

could easily hear Joan's accelerated heartbeat. Pressing his

chest to her back, he could feel the thudding as if it were his

own heart. In truth, he thought, her heart beat for both of

them; pumping blood that belonged to, and would sustain them both

as Mates.

Randy closed his eyes as the sensation washed over him. Even as

it was happening, Randy could not believe this was his life… er,

unlife. From the beginning, as he and the others had sought to

discover the extent of their lost memories, untangle the complex

web of relationships among the members of The Band, Randy had

been drawn to Joan. Then, with his discovery of her scar and

their reactions to the apparent meaning… And now, Joan would be

his. Again.

He nuzzled the back of her neck as he ran his palms down, then

back up her thighs, pressing into her resilient flesh. One hand

returned to her hip, fingers tucking into the pocket of her

slacks. There, blunt nails scratched against her belly through

the thin fabric, making her squirm atop him. The other hand

found the hem of her blouse and slid beneath.

Joan drew in a sharp breath as cool fingers danced across her

midriff. Randy nipped gently at the skin of Joan's nape as he

explored the satin skin of her middle in broad strokes,

fingertips slipping under the waistband of her slacks one moment,

brushing the underside of her breast next. He marveled at the

feel of her; the skin like warm, heavy satin, draped gently over

the surprising fullness of her breasts, drawn tightly over the

muscle and bone of her middle.

His fingertips fluttered against the edge of her cropped camisole

then, gripping the hem, he began a slow pull. The silky fabric

stretched, the lace edging scraping slowly across her hardened

nipples. Joan moaned as Randy used her cami to deliciously

abrade her skin. His other hand emerged from her pocket to slip

beneath the thin cotton and cup the swell of one breast and then

the other, pressing the sensitive tips against the textured

fabric.

Joan's hands moved restlessly; one slipping up and down Randy's

arm to where it caressed her breasts, the other kneading his hip

and flank beneath her. She began to squirm against him,

whimpering her need as he continued his attentions to her

breasts.

"Shhhh, my love," he whispered. Her needy little movements atop

him made him ache with want, quiver with need. But he was

unwilling to rush this; it was too important. One hand fell from

her breast to the damp fabric between her thighs. He traced the

seam of her slacks tentatively, and then, when she keened

"Pleeeeeaaaaasse!" he applied pressure in firm circular strokes.

She responded by pulsing her lower body strongly into his hand.

Her uninhibited response to him was, by turns, a joy and a

revelation. There continued to be a part of Randy that was

surprised at how strongly Joan reacted to his touch.

Determinedly shaking off the vague sense of being in unfamiliar

territory, Randy concentrated on pleasing Joan. Continuing his

massage of her mons, he bent again to her nape, scraping the

delicate skin with his elongated incisors, drawing delicate

red-line patterns against the pale flesh, then soothing his

decorations with his cool tongue.

Randy could feel Joan's body vibrate with need; the scent of her

arousal permeated the air around them. "Now, please, " Joan

pleaded. She moved her hands to cover his, drew them together,

pressing them harder against her breasts, then dragging them down

and across her middle. Randy flexed his fingers as she moved

their joined hands up her ribs and back to her breasts. "Now."

"Yes. Now," Randy said.

He pulled their hands away from her breasts, reaching towards the

table in front of them. He stood slowly, leaning forward,

extending their arms across the book-laden surface until Joan was

pressed to the table, face down, held there by Randy's long, cool

body. The heat of her body scorched him from palms to knees as

he lay over her. He placed an openmouthed kiss on her scar

before slowly drawing away to stand over her. A cool hand

pressed briefly to the small of her back, so Joan remained there,

looking to Randy expectantly.

Her golden hair glowing softly in the low light of the shop, her

slender back arched slightly over the books beneath her, the

rounded curves of her buttocks poised at the edge of the table;

Randy caught an unneeded breath at the sight. Joan was a

priceless gift to him, a sumptuous banquet awaiting his

attention. She was his. Randy didn't dare try to analyze the

complexity of the satisfaction that brought him. Bright and

dark, generous and selfish; their joining, he realized, was

somehow both conquest and surrender.

Joan's soft sound of inquiry brought Randy back from his

contemplation of her. He reached around her middle, fingers

slipping between her belly and the edge of the table to find the

tab of her zipper. He placed soft kisses to the exposed skin

between waistband and blouse as he eased her slacks, and the

panties beneath, down to her knees. His palms stroked the silky

skin of her behind, then traced the line that separated cheek and

thigh. He could feel the heat pouring off of her in thick, heady

waves. And, as he slipped a hand between her thighs, urging her

to widen her stance, he felt the evidence of her desire dampen

his fingers. At her plaintive whimper, he removed his hand and

took just a moment to savor the tableau in front of him.

Joan lay upon the table, head resting on a forearm; with closed

eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips parted to accommodate the panting

breaths she was reduced to taking. She shifted her weight

restlessly, arching almost imperceptibly against the unyielding

table. The sight of her helpless arousal had Randy scrabbling at

his own belt, wrenching the zipper down and dropping his own

trousers in near panic.

Finally freeing himself from the constraint of his clothing,

Randy stepped up to Joan, pressing himself against her. The feel

of her hot skin against his cold hardness elicited a feral growl

from Randy that startled them both. Recovering quickly from the

surprise, and appearing even more aroused for it, Joan twisted

halfway around and clasped a hand over Randy's buttock, keeping

him fitted to her when he would have backed away.

"Yes," she stated emphatically, eyes locked on his. Again, she

managed to astound Randy, in only the nicest way mind you, with

her full acceptance of his demonic aspect. Her hand clenched,

bruising him, as she waited for him to resume.

Reaching behind, he entwined their fingers and brought their

joined hands forward, then placed her palm on the table, ensuring

she could support the weight of her upper body. He placed his

hand next to hers, draping himself along her shoulder and back.

Then, with his other arm under her hips, he drew her onto her

tiptoes and pushed forward, sheathing himself slowly in her

burning core.

They sighed in unison as he filled her, completing them both in

one slow, deliberate thrust. He could feel her internal muscles

flutter around him at the invasion. She let out a low, keening

wail that was clearly not of pain. Against his cool hardness she

was so wet, but so tight. He could feel each striation inside

her caress him as he pushed in, until he was fully seated in her,

until he felt the cool flesh of his abdomen warming from contact

her heat.

His face buried in the crook of her neck, panting though he did

not need to breathe, Randy could not imagine anything more

intimate that what he was currently feeling. Yet he knew there

was more. And he longed to share it with Joan. Joan- the love

of his unlife, the sun-kissed, super-powered savior of this small

city where the Noble Vampire and his Vampire Hunter mate made

earthshaking love, and vows of forever.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Mmmm," she murmured in assent. She tilted her head back, eyes

closed, giving him access. Her head snapped upright again as she

felt him shift her backwards… he was…

Sitting down.

"Ahhhhhhrrrrahh!" Joan's wail rang off the walls of the magic

shop as Randy sank back into the chair, spreading his legs

slightly. Budding frustration soon gave way to building ecstasy

as their new position pressed Randy even deeper inside Joan's

warm body.

Joan's fingers clenched on the edge of the table as Randy pulsed

into her in slow, small movements. Randy slipped both hands

under Joan's blouse and camisole, caressing her breasts. With a

whimper, Joan raised her arms above her head, urging Randy to

divest her of the impeding fabric

Free of her clothing, Joan's body was even more beautiful; lean,

golden, lightly muscled and glowing with the exertion of their

lovemaking.

He licked the perspiration gathering in the hollow of her

collarbone, then paused to listen to the rush of blood just

beneath that satin skin. It called to him, promising satiation

of his deepest desires.

Determined to ignore the siren song of her blood just a little

while longer, he slipped one hand down to where their bodies were

joined, finding and rubbing her most sensitive spot. He continued

to flex his hips, pressing into her slowly, deeply. Gently at

first, then with more pressure from without and within, he

brought her to the very edge of climax

As her mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, Randy grasped her

chin with his other hand, turning his head to grind his mouth

down on hers. He felt both his lip and hers part against his

fangs.

The rich, coppery taste of her blood, so much more vibrant than

his own, filled his senses. He could feel her warm little tongue

worrying the nick in his own lip, drinking him in, even as he

lapped the precious elixir from her mouth.

Joan broke the kiss, desperate for oxygen. She panted heavily,

her naked breasts heaving as she drew breath. "Pleaaasssse," she

whimpered against his lips. Her voice, her peaked nipples, the

contractions inside her, all told she was poised on the razor's

edge of desire. Pleasure that was almost pain, would be pain

soon, if not consummated. "Bite. Me."

A shock of pleasure ran through Randy at her words. He moved his

hand from her chin to her temple, tilting her head back and to

the side. She sighed as she willingly bared her throat to him.

He could see the pulse beneath the mark there, throbbing in time

with his hardness within her. "Come for me, my love," he

whispered, fangs at her neck. "My mate."

Joan stiffened on Randy's lap, burning pain and searing pleasure

racing through her body as his fangs slipped into her neck. Randy

could feel her inner muscles milking him rhythmically, even as

his fangs did the same to her. At her scream of completion, his

orgasm tore through him. He fought hard not to clamp his fangs

down on her as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through his

body.

Randy felt Joan shudder and then begin to grow limp against him.

Easing his fangs from her neck, Randy wrapped his arms around her

middle, holding her close.

"Joan?" he whispered, "Are you…?"

"Mmmm," she murmured sleepily, her head resting back on his

shoulder.

Joan's hand drifted up to stroke Randy's face as he regained his

human visage. Her fingers caressed his cheek, then fluttered

down to where he had bitten her.

"Yours," Joan sighed, almost asleep. Randy licked at the small

trickle of blood still coming from the two small wounds adorning

her scar and smiled. And wondered where on the table to carve

their initials.

-END-