Amoral Thoughts

What does it matter who it is, as long as it feels good? What does it matter at all?

Nothing matters, not anymore. She'd lost everything. Lost the love of her life, lost her magick. Lost everything that mattered in the world to her.

He came, he offered to take the pain away. She was looking for something to numb the pain. He became her Novocain.

And he did. Oh, how he did. Not a scrap of pain remained, not an iota of herself could be felt when he invaded her senses like he did.

Soft words in a sweet voice led to soft touches. He could make it all go away he promised. Make the hurt and the darkness fly away. Make her feel whole and full, not this dense emptiness that was left in her.

A hand on her breast, his mouth on her neck, licking and sucking on the flesh over the pulse points. Drifting hands, warmed skin - all designed to make her think less and less and feel more and more.

With his hands and his mouth and his whispered words of praise - he even smelled like sex. Whiskey and cigarettes and sex. He'd been fucking someone else earlier, she could tell. She didn't know who, she didn't ask - she didn't care.

As long as he kept riding her through orgasm after orgasm - as long as he kept telling her how beautiful and powerful she was. As long as he kept promising that she'd never feel anything ever again.

She didn't know what he meant - but did it really matter? Everything was gone - everything except his body and his words and his bite.

She didn't hear Buffy come home, she didn't hear the scream. She didn't hear Spike explaining to Buffy how his chip had broken when Buffy pounded his head into the pavement of that alley.

She didn't hear anything at all - there was nothing left of her to hear. Willow didn't live here anymore.



The End

 

 

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