Sunday 100 drabble.
"Salt"
He can taste his blood mixed with rain water mixed with sweat. It streams down his face, stinging his eyes and invading his mouth (like her tongue like the glass like betrayal). Hands, stiff and half numb, half raw with pain, tighten around the hilt of the knife.
Cradled. Weeping. Alive.
His ears are still ringing from the blows, buzzing with the rising of his pulse. He cannot hear her sobs over the din in his head, yet he can feel Angel's touch on her hair, on her shoulders, in his gut like a punch.
He lets the knife fall.
Jesus, Plei.
Fabulous. I actually *tasted* salt, reading that.
Sunday 100 on LJ is incredible. There was some good stuff yesterday/today. (The first go-round.)
Is the Sunday100 Buffyverse?
Plei, that was
fabulous.
Fucking fabulous.
Oh, Deena - my boys! They're just adorable, aren't they?
Sunday 100 Drabble:
He arches his back, pressing himself into her. She needs him and she knows it – he can see it behind her eyes, knowledge she can’t put voice to. What he does for her now, pinned underneath her insistent hips, giving himself up to her demanding hands is nothing anyone else can.
She reaches her end now, speeding up, throwing the last of herself at him, and he accepts it, accepts the tears in her eyes, drinks up her anger until she stops.
Helpless, long spent, limp beneath her, he smiles weakly.
“You always hurt ... the one you love, pet.”
ita-- that's, um. Yeah. Nice.
