fanfiction by sienna

Halcyon Days
by Sienna

E-MAIL: [email protected]
DISCLAIMER: sweet potato
RATING: NC-17
SYNOPSIS: Happy couple fun time. In the sunlight. In the backyard. With oil. Buffy's POV.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a quasi-sequel to Infinitely Gentle, kinda like how Infinitely Gentle was a quasi-sequel to Hallowed. Meaning that they can stand alone, but also exist in the same universe. I'm a bit sick of this POV but it's too hard to change it. Hope you enjoy this small offering.

I gaze at you through the window, noticing for the thousandth time the way the afternoon sun settles lovingly over your shoulder blades, shining across every inch of tanned, exposed skin. We do almost everything outside these days, just because we can and because you love the heat of the day on your body. You love how the colours are richer and brighter, the way the shadows aren't ever black and always inviting. You wouldn't believe me if I said that you are sunlight to me, the way you soak it into your skin, how you relish it. I love that you have that kind of joy.

Today reminds me of our first sunlight day, almost a year ago now. You told me I glowed spring colours, I smirked at you and said you knew how to get into a girl's pants. And so you did. Mine.

But I can't give you too much credit because it was gonna happen anyway, really.

Hands clasping. Curved spine digging into the hardwood floor. Hot breath against my cheek.

Your knees must have hurt but you laughed afterwards, both of us sweaty and panting and grinning like idiots.

You're wearing your black boxers and I had slipped on one of my barely there bikinis because I knew it made you crazy. It's the red one, the deeper red as opposed to the one I've declared 'Baywatch Baby'. We're not planning to swim (even though the pool puts forth a sound argument), but I mean, we really should attempt to be decent while outdoors, even just in the backyard. At least for a while.

I open the sliding doors and approach you from behind, unabashedly ogling you and feeling a healthy dollop of gleeful possessiveness because of one simple fact: You are mine for always and we're gonna grow old together and this is It.

You're propped up on your stomach on the blue picnic blanket, a bowl of melting ice cubes in front of you and remnants of our lunch off to the side, forgotten. I crawl over you with a grin and sit on your lower back, your skin sultry from staying out too long in the sun. The thought makes my heart pulse with happiness and I press a kiss to your hair. You're holding an ice cube against your lips, sucking it lightly, and I snatch a couple from the bowl, letting them slipslide in my palms.

It's weird how the little things affect me. I remember buying all the plates and forks and this bowl, trying to decide whether to get the white set or the blue set. I thought about when you use someone else's cutlery and the spoon is oddly shaped and the fork is way too long -- these were comfortably ours from the start. It's the familiarities that make it our home. As in, Buffy and Angel's Love Nest Spectacular. As in, Oh My God, We Actually Live Together.

Heh. You knew I was this demented when you moved your things in. Must be love.

"You're going to get burnt," I say chidingly, swiping over your skin with a cool, wet thumb. You're fiery to touch. "Wanna go back inside?"

"Not yet," you murmur. "Just a little longer."

I put an ice cube in my mouth and lift my hips a little to put the other on the small of your back. Your muscles jerk from the sudden chilly temperature.

"What took you so long in there?" you ask playfully. You've become tense from that tiny cube on your back, slowly melting from the heat of your skin.

I smile and rub your shoulders for a moment, hard muscles yielding beneath my fingers. "I had to--" I lower my crotch on that piece of ice and we both draw in a sharp breath. It's so cold, almost too cold, and I feel a rush of heat inside. I grind down on you and let my eyes close. "--find something."

The ice melts between us and now my bikini bottoms are a little wet, but they're slowly becoming warm. I untangle the ties from around the back of my neck and pull the material off, letting it fall delicately onto the blanket. You don't appear to notice.

"Mm. You feel so good," you murmur, your head resting on your arms.

I chuckle. "We haven't done anything yet."

You smile enigmatically and I kiss your temple, rubbing my cheek against your hair. I had to find the oil, the new bottle, because the old one smelled too strong of cherry. We didn't really use that one much, too impatient to get inside each other.

"I love the quiet," I say into your ear, resisting the urge to press myself against your back and keeping a small gap between us. I live for these moments alone together, when the monsters are hiding and the gang knows not to bother us. We need this -- I need this. I need to make you feel loved with whispers and hands, and I need you all over my skin, inside me. I need to curl up against you and feel the weight of your arms around me.

"It's perfect," you smile lazily. Your smile begins to turn devious, sexy, as you turn your head slightly to catch my eyes. "You're perfect."

I snicker. "You're such a smooth talker."

But I love it. And compliments will get you anywhere. You know me too well.

"If I get sunburnt again, it'll be worth it," you say sleepily.

"You always say that, but then you complain when you can't lie on your back. Or your front. Or both," I remind you. Your tan is darker than mine now, you look exotic. Beautiful, with that warm human glow you exude so well.

You grin, content not to care. "It's always worth it."

I run my hands over your back again, knowing that you enjoy the feel of skin on skin, smooth strokes with palms and fingers. When we're in the tub you like to skim the surface of the water with your palm, just feeling the difference. I try it sometimes, but it's not the same when you're not there.

"You want to go away somewhere?" you ask suddenly, not opening your eyes. "Just us."

A smile creeps along my lips. "Where?"

"Anywhere. Anywhere you want to go."

The sun is burning against my back and I wonder how you handle it. A hint of a cool breeze tickles my skin.

"What about the monsters?" I remind you. I'm also surprised that you'd willingly leave Connor for so long -- the longest we've been apart from him was for four days and you were worried sick, even though he was with family.

You make a 'mm' sound, the thought of demons clearly not troubling you. "How about Europe? Or Africa?"

"I thought you'd be sick of travelling by now," I say lightly, knowing that you've been almost everywhere in your long life and there isn't much you haven't done.

"This will be different. I want to show you everything," you say, and I feel a burst of warm affection, as if I need reminding of how much I love you.

"I wanted to be the one to show you things," I pout. I thought it would be the other way around, with your sparkling new humanity.

"You do," you reply, a soft look in your eyes as you turn your head slightly. "Every day. It's my turn now. You're getting tired of Sunnydale."

I nibble on your shoulder, you're a bit salty. "Not right now, I'm not," I grin. "Anyway, it's not really Europe I'm interested in at the moment."

"How about Thailand?" you ask, a smirk in your voice.

"Nope. Something much--" I lick the side of your neck playfully, "closer to home."

You murmur something incoherent, and to have you like this makes me feel both powerful and humbled at once. I know exactly where you liked to be kissed - just under your jaw and below your nipple and around your navel and about a hundred other places - I know how to make you lose control. I think about how far we've come, how for years I couldn't even see you. I still feel a sharp pang in my chest at the memories but it doesn't last for long, mostly because you're lying half-naked beneath me. We're really together this time and afterwards, you'll cook dinner and we'll probably eat it in bed. And that's heaven for me.

I press my mouth against your smooth shoulder. You smell delicious; it's you without the other stuff interfering, like worn leather seats or...clothes in general, and the fact that there's probably a bit of me in there, too, makes my ego swell.

"Lift your hips," I say softly, and I slide down to pull your boxers off, gazing at your muscled rear. I crack a grin and can't resist giving one cheek a teasing bite; those muscles tighten for a moment in response. You don't know what I have planned, but you're happy to find out as we go along. The surprises always make it that much more fun.

I sit on your lower back again and grab the oil, letting it dribble onto the center of your back. You moan softly, liking the prospects that oil brings. I set the bottle down and spread it over your skin, massaging it into your back.

"God, I love you," you sigh, and I laugh. I laugh a lot these days. We both do. A couple of crazy laughing people. But despite Dawn's exasperated looks when things get overly mushy, she's thrilled that we're happy.

I love being happy.

I realise distractedly that a good part our relationship revolves around being together, that physical proximity I've gotten so used to. I can't imagine life without you now, you're such an essential part of every day, and at night, I fall asleep to the sound of your heart. And usually on your side of the bed, because it's yours. A lot of it was making up for lost time, enjoying coupledom and reacquainting ourselves with each other's bodies and feeling immense gratitude, but now it's more. You're more a part of me than you ever were, and I know I'm a big part of you (I better be, anyway)...I think the word I'm looking for is 'whole'. I feel whole. And loved.

I slide my hands up your sides and you squirm a little - you don't know how tempted I am to tickle you right now - before letting my hands return to your back. I rub my fingers against your beautiful tattoo, then down your spine, watching as you arch slightly against my touch. I scoot lower and drip more oil over your ass, down your strong legs. I slowly work my way back up, massaging the muscle, letting a finger slip behind your testicles to stroke that sensitive spot that never fails to make you hard. You let out a small groan but I don't linger long, moving up to your broad shoulders and running my hands over them, your skin a liquid gleam from the oil.

I stand but you don't open your eyes, frowning a little, and I slide my bikini bottoms down my legs, kicking them away. I drop to my knees, on either side of your hips, and run a finger along the damp skin of your back.

"Turn around," I say, and now you're looking up at me, heat flaring in your dark eyes when you see that I'm nude, as if for the first time. You run your hands up my thighs to my hips and try to bring me down, but I resist, bending at the waist to kiss you, finally. Your lips open beneath mine and our tongues flirt, teasing then playing. I feel it all the way inside my core and there's a rush of arousal as you slowly pull my bottom lip between yours. That little gesture is suddenly so erotic to me, every inch of my skin more sensitive to your touch than before.

You give me a small, pleased grin when I open my eyes breathlessly. "I thought you said no more until tonight."

"Temporary insanity?" I suggest, and you lean up that small distance to press moist lips to mine again. I was practically pouting, begging for it.

I want a deep kiss and you already know, giving it to me slowly as you plumb the depths of my mouth like you haven't done it a million times before. I get to do this every day but it still feels new, precious, like I'm rediscovering you each time. Your tongue is soft, like the inside of a peach, and just as sweet.

We don't stop kissing when I take your hand and guide it lower, to wrap around your hard length, and you position it against my sex. I pull away and we're both panting as I straighten, resting one hand on your chest, the other moving between my legs. I run my fingers across my lower lips, spreading them as we both look down, both anticipating, tense. The head of your cock nudges against me and I let out a trembling breath, moving back and forth a little so that you're rubbing against me, your flesh wet from my arousal. You tease my clit, barely, before dragging the tip against my entrance, and I let my sex close around you, sliding moist fingers over your length. Your breath catches as you watch yourself disappear inside me, achingly slow because you're big and I want to savour everything. I keep going lower, feeling you stretch me to the limit, and you release the grasp on yourself to press your hand flat against my pelvic bone, massaging my swelling clitoris in hard circles with your thumb.

I let out something between a moan and a cry, my hips jerking in sharp pleasure against your hand, before remembering what I want to do. I press your hand against my thigh instead, trying not to focus on the aching fullness inside me. You thrust your hips up, pushing an inch in and out, your hands tightening.

"Buffy..." you moan, pleading. I love hearing my name in that moan, feeling it steal into my belly and settle there with a warm tingle. I press down harder, pinning your hips to the ground.

"Not yet," I say, trying to sound adamant but it comes out as more of a breathy gasp, and I have to stop myself from thrusting against you.

I take the oil and spread it over your chest, over your hard stomach and up your arms. I give in a little and shift back and forth as I rub it into your skin, my fingers sliding over every inch of you. You're so tense beneath me, trying to keep in control, letting me have my way. I tease your nipples, brushing over them so that they tighten at the bare contact. You're sensitive there; I think you like it almost as much as I do.

Finally, I lean down and press my chest against yours, lavishing generous kisses to the side of your neck. You let out a breath; even though you're not a vampire anymore, you still love to be spoiled there. Your hands slide around my waist, one slipping lower to rest on my rear, squeezing gently. I feel like laughing all of a sudden because...because this is *us* and you're human and you'd think after this long it would have sunken in by now but it hasn't. It still feels as new and as wonderful as the first day.

I sit up again and rest my weight on your hips; your hands are moving all over me, making me shiver despite the heat. You feel amazing. I don't think we've ever been so comfortable with each other, with our own skin, and the difference is incredible. We know each other so well.

You gasp. "I want--"

"I think Africa. I want to see the cats," I say breathlessly, continuing our original conversation. I do want to go away with you, I want to do everything with you. The fact that I can think that without feeling depressed or desperate is so liberating, it makes me feel even more powerful than all that Slayerness. There's a burst of laughter from my chest when you give me an incredulous look; I've stalled enough for your liking. "Or somewhere warm, with water."

"Buffy..." you say, your tone begging me to focus. You stroke my nipples slowly with your thumbs, coaxing. Oh god, oh god. Having your hands on me is sheer bliss.

I rock back and forth a few times and the pleasure is piercing, acute, the kind I have to chase at a gallop. I try to concentrate on talking. "An island. Our own island," I gasp.

You don't reply, your fingers slipping down my sides to hold my hips, thrusting up inside me smoothly.

I slow down, slower than before, leaning over you to put pressure on my clit. "What do you think?"

Your muscles are tense all over and I can tell you want to push me off, onto my back. You let out a small moan, rolling your hips up. "Whatever you want."

"Angel." I smother a smile and stop completely, feeling my muscles quiver and tighten around your hardness. "What do you want?"

"Don't stop," you breathe, thrusting up into me steadily, in and out with a tight slide. I bite my lip and struggle to keep my eyes open, you're getting faster and I didn't want it to get this far so soon. Suddenly, you sit up and I wrap my arms around your neck to brace myself, your forehead resting on mine as we catch our breaths together, panting. You're warm and slippery against me from the oil and I resist the urge to rub up against you, feeling around for the bottle and pressing it into your hand instead.

We got a white picket fence as a bit of a joke, but every time I see it, it reminds me of the years when dreams were only dreams, elusive and intangible. There would be no family picnics or the puppy that dug up the flowers or breakfast in bed. Yesterday, we walked to a cozy French cafe for lunch and sat in a booth for two, bantering about making babies and how absurd the idea was, especially since Connor was at the stage where breaking toys got big laughs. But at the same time, you were looking at me and I was looking at you and there was that giddy, overwhelming fear in my chest because maybe we weren't really kidding. I think I fell in love with you all over again in that cafe, our legs touching underneath the table, being a regular couple like we never knew any different.

This morning you woke me with a kiss and a smile and I rolled over to sprawl across your full length, half asleep and determined not to wake up. Your hands made sweeping caresses all over my back, a small throb of pleasure escalating in my limbs until you finally twisted me onto my back and thrust in between my legs. I love slow sleepy lovemaking in the morning, the languid rocking, the broadness of your shoulders and my fingers in your hair. You wrapped your arms around me and I felt your teeth in my shoulder when you came, then I came, and then you gave me a deep, long hello kiss, my favourite kind. As cliched and sentimental as it sounds, it took every ounce of self-control to keep the tears at bay and I think you knew because you kissed my forehead and didn't let go of me for the rest of the morning.

You gently move my hair out of the way, looking over my shoulder as I feel warm wetness trickle down my back. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, feeling as if the world has suddenly slowed down, and there's unbelievable safety here, pressed against you. Your heart beats against my chest and I tighten my arms around your neck, your big hands smoothing the oil all over my skin. It still surprises me that we can do this without a hint of awkwardness. You can do anything and I can do anything and it'll be like movie sex, all perfectly choreographed positions and ecstatic orgasms, the kind of beautiful, impossible sex you secretly anticipate will happen. One day.

But then, it's not just about the sex, even though that's a big part of it, because you always want what you can't have and not having it played a starring role in our relationship. There was no one else for me when I was sixteen and there's no one for me now - you are the world to me and I'm finally allowed to show you, no-holds barred. Everything changes perspective.

You lean forward to kiss me but pull back before our lips make contact, teasing me, and I fall for it a few times before I finally get you in a hard triumphant kiss, your tongue delving into my mouth eagerly, and I begin to glide up and down on your hardness, flushing pink with heat. My breasts slide deliciously against your chest, nipples hard and aching with arousal, and you nibble on my lips, hands never stilling. Just when it's starting to get serious, the pleasure building like wildfire, I slip you out completely and lie back on the blanket, leaning on my elbows and gasping for breath.

You look stunned for a moment but move over me in an instant, pulling my legs open to accommodate your hips. I let my head drop to the blanket and shiver when your dark eyes meet mine, feeling you press against my entrance. I reach down and close my hand around you, stroking evenly, and you hold my face tenderly, your entire body taut with restraint. I can just barely get my hand all the way around your swollen length, lingering around the sensitive tip and squeezing gently. You make a sound in your throat and take my hand away, holding it above my head.

You nuzzle my neck, pressing inviting kisses there. "Let me give it to you," you whisper impatiently, cupping my breast, teasing a nipple with your warm palm.

I giggle. "I want the oil," I say, meaning it. You look resigned. I find your eyes and pull you down so that our faces almost touch. "But first I want you inside me."

You suddenly lean back on your knees and pull my thighs over yours, looking into my eyes for a moment. The way you do it all, with a kind of concentrated intent, makes my heart beat faster and it's on my lips to tell you to just finish me off, oil be damned. You grasp my hips with strong hands and I clutch the blanket when I feel your hardness push against me. I realise I'm tense and there's no way you're going to fit, but in all the mind-numbing ecstasy I've forgotten how well you know me. Your hand is there before I finish the thought, parting me and rubbing my clit with wet fingers, pulses of sharp pleasure assaulting my nerves.

My eyes are almost closed and I'm moaning, lifting my hips slightly to encourage you to continue. Your lips curve into a smile and I hope to god this isn't payback time because I've been waiting just as long as you have.

But you surprise me, as always. Before I even realise you've moved away, you part my lower lips and bow your head to give my entrance a slow, delicate lick. I let out a small whine, sliding one hand into your thick hair. You squeeze a drop of oil onto my sex and spread it around slowly with your thumb, delving inside for a moment before massaging my swollen clit in firm strokes. Then you're sinking inside me all the way, smoothly and without hesitation, shifting your hips and caressing my legs, kneeling above me.

You grin and I can't help grinning back, and you bend forward to lick my nipples before dripping oil over my stomach, rubbing it over my breasts in slow movements. I sigh, arching into your touch, squirming a little when you focus on my nipples again, closing your fingers around the hard tips. You thrust slowly, filling me completely then withdrawing, spreading more oil over my hips and legs.

"Better?" you ask with a small smile, dropping the oil beside me.

I moan in reply as you move over me again, covering me completely. I draw my knees up near your hips so I can push against you more easily, and we fall into a smooth, easy rhythm. You give me light kisses because we need to breathe -- you breathe now and it's a miracle -- and I'm feeling a little dizzy, unable to focus on anything and the sky is doing that thing where the clouds sail in hypnotic little circles. Yep. I'm officially gone.

There's a hum of pleasure in my core, where you are, building very slowly, carefully. I wrap my arms around your back and press my face against your shoulder, feeling you begin to move faster, more forcefully. You feel hot, almost overheated, and I thrust my hips up in time with yours, holding my breath so that my concentration centers on the fullness inside me. The slippery glide of your skin against mine is making me crazy and I'm suddenly aware that those small cries are actually coming from me, and you're saying my name in my ear, panting with each push. My climax rushes upon me without warning and I surge upward, lifting my hips faster in case it slips away. You groan, thrusting back harder, two rough thrusts then a small one, and I feel the pleasure barrel through the center of me, tipping me over the edge. I tighten my arms and legs around you and my mouth falls open but no sound comes out and it feels so good it almost hurts when you don't stop. I can tell you're close and you press your mouth hard against my forehead, your hips still pounding against me. You let out a shout and buck against me, the tension leaving your body as you rest your head next to mine. I feel raw and alive and completely happy, running my fingers through your mussed hair as we breathe together.

You don't move off me and I'm glad, our limbs still entangled warmly. I turn my head and press kisses over your face, finding your lips, and you kiss me deeply for a long time. When I look at you again, your eyes are soft and searching.

"Do you want a baby?" you ask, holding me closer. I love you so much. I know you want more babies, seeing how you are with Connor, and me, and ever since you became human, the world has opened up to you.

I slide an arm around your neck. "Yeah," I smile, then giggle without meaning to, because I can't keep this much joy inside. "One day."

We're both still covered in oil and there's some on your cheek, probably from me. You run your hand down my back, over my breasts, before pushing your tongue into my mouth gently.

"I love you," you say, and my chest tightens, my hands weaken.

"It's never gonna be quiet," I tell you.

You smile. "Dawn can babysit." You press your hips into mine, one of my legs still raised over yours. "It doesn't have to be right away. If it happens..."

"I know," I say lightly. I rub your chest, looking up. "I always wanted it to be yours. Ours."

You kiss me suddenly, intensely. "You don't know what it's like to hear you say that," you say, your eyes soft again.

I think about Connor and the way he lifts his little arms up to me, the way he calls me 'mommy' without a thought. I smile. "I think I do."

We lie on the picnic blanket and I try not to fall asleep, my eyelids already drooping with contentment. Vaguely, I feel you lift me in your arms and carry me into the house, then there are pillows all around me, soft and clean against my skin.

"Wait," I mumble when you settle in beside me. "Oil. Getting oil on the sheets."

You slip an arm around my waist, sounding as sleepy as I feel. "Want a bath?"

I pause, or maybe doze. "...Nuh."

"Mm."

"You're washing."

"You."

"You."

"Connor."

I laugh.

the end

<-- fiction

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