we have found our solace here in this unexpected place

[herotypical]

Who: slaying & lists_to_port
What: there is a tradition that needs to be upheld on the eves of horrors.
When: sunday night.
Where: good spirits, at first. then elsewhere.
Summary: debriefing and de-traumaing and all kinds of good stuff.
Rating: danger danger high voltage -- things get r-ratedish. fair warning!

Back on Friday, Buffy had scribbled a tense little note to Captain Jack Sparrow:

Need some time. Don't worry. Mission accomplished -- no deaths. Just gotta look after me for a bit. Good Spirits on Sunday night?

-- Buffy

After returning to the village, Buffy had wanted nothing more than to find the pirate and curl up next to him. But the fight with Derek had been harder than she would care to admit and she wanted to scrub as much of that from herself before rejoining the rest of Luceti. She had Giles to look after and she had her own mind to tend to and she spent hours focusing on those meditation crystals -- begging for peace. Peace was so far away.

But on Sunday, Buffy took a long long bath. She put loose, fashionable curls in her hair and she took the luxury of all the time in the world to dip into her make-up drawer and line her eyes and mascara her lashes and pick a natural, light lip gloss. The aim was to look healthy if she couldn't look happy.

She walked into Good Spirits with apprehension in her step and looked around for the man she had asked to meet with her there.

Comments

[herotypical]

"You might as well have just scrawled Captain Jack Sparrow was here."

She joked, of course. It was a lovely little sparrow and she continued to admire it.

[all7seas]

"Would you like that, next? But where would I draw that one. Hmmm...Suggestions?"

He joked as well, and was highly pleased that she seemed to like the sparrow.

[herotypical]

"Hmmm...suggestions?" She echoed, coyly. Buffy snapped the compact shut and leaned over the pirate. "Well? When you think about it, the only option's pretty obvious."

She reached across him for the dulled eyeliner pencil and dragged the capped end over his skin as she reclaimed it. "On the part of me that doesn't actually exist because there's no way that's gonna happen." She punctuated the last few words with light pencil taps on an uninked portion of his side before flipping the eyeliner in her palm and scribbling a simple little smiley face with its tongue sticking out.

[all7seas]

Sparrow was quite ticklish, and that made him squirm. He reached out to grab her wrist.

"Nothing---nothing says more clearly, Buffy, that 'This Pirate Belongs to Buffy Summers and so Hands Off All You Other Wench---Women."

[herotypical]

The Slayer's wrist wasn't so easily caught; however, she didn't duck away and instead snuck closer.

"That's not what it says at all." But him saying it was interesting and it prompted her to avoid his grab a little longer to sloppily sign her name on his stomach. Rushed, though. To make sure she could get it down.

[all7seas]

".......I'll never bathe again."

[herotypical]

"Oh, yes you will. You will even if I have to catch you and drag you to water myself."

[all7seas]

"Mmmhmm. It strikes me, Annie, that we two are soon to get somewhat...smudgy." He traced a fingertip lightly along the edges of that flowering vine. "Makes me a bit sad."

[herotypical]

She breathed deep through her nose and at the peak of the breath she gave in to a soft, happy sound. "Not too sad, I hope."

[all7seas]

"Sad but not sad at all, really." Now he was outlining the words of the poem, memorizing its placement on her body. That Buffy Summers would let him take such liberties with her skin--this was a source of amazement to the pirate. She was so fastidious about her appearance, typically.

[herotypical]

Hesitation had been replaced with approval; after all, these additions were beautiful and although it was sad to think they'd never be seen again after they were washed away, there was a security to be found in their temporariness. More alarming will be tomorrow morning when Buffy will wake up a wife and a mother and be left wondering why she has a smudged sparrow on her shoulder. Or maybe she won't question it at all.

She carefully underlined her signature -- thick, imprecise lines because the pencil needed sharpening. "And there's always next time."

[all7seas]

When she finished, he placed a protective palm over the name. "Next time," he murmured. Then he reached for her.

Tomorrow he will wake up with no memory of this night, but with the distinct feeling that he has to do right by the woman he loves--that to give her a firmer foundation in himself, some permanence is required.

[herotypical]

Buffy pressed closer and probably transfered some shadow-and-liner smudges onto the art's perpetrator. She fitted her body next to his and knew that the vines would be the first to get disassembled. But she angled her shoulder away -- she would protect the sparrow as long as possible. Keep its lines from running and keep it safe and crisp from interference.

She kissed him -- sweetly and tender in the same vein as the night he had returned from the ocean.

[all7seas]

The pirate was actively trying, now, to take some of that kohl and shadow onto his body. The skull and crossbones---the legitimate tattooed one, on his stomach--became blue and green and gray like a bruise as he pressed against her. The kiss preoccupied him for some moments, but soon he was working on removing the last barriers that her clothing had to offer.

[herotypical]

Eagerness and help was provided in spades. She had been the sole possessor of pants for a little too long and so she was quite obliging in the removal of them. Buffy's primness and reticence in public translated rather poorly past watersheds and closed doors -- a healthy dose of hedonism that she mistakenly believed she could hide well in day-to-day affairs but most likely wore on her sleeve.

[all7seas]

When they were clear of the clothing, Jack tried to nudge her legs apart so he could push inside of her. It felt like an urgent matter of right now and he didn't want to put off this reclamation of Buffy any longer. Drawings and touches and kisses were wonderful and he loved them, but he'd thought he had come so close to losing her over the past few days

my Annie

to something harder and more unfeeling--that slayer she was, the one that wanted to push him away---and he needed union. Desperately.

[herotypical]

She would never realize how close she often came to losing herself in that role. But the transition was starker in Luceti -- with fewer direct threats under her care, she could spend more time outside of the Slayer. This had lead to a social network of friends and acquaintances wider than she had ever had in Sunnydale. While the Scooby Gang had always been large, it had also been a group of people brought together by the hardships of the town. Arguably, some would never have made the cut if not for the muscle they could contribute -- like Spike. And unlike most friends in Luceti, the gang was well aware of her exceptionally dual nature. Luceti knew she was a Vampire Slayer but most of them didn't know quite how deeply that ran.

Jack knew, though. Having met the Slayer in a state of high rage and righteousness, he would have to know. Been hit by the Slayer and chased by the Slayer and kept prisoner for a time. It meant less play-acting around the pirate. This was a valued confidence and she had been long taking advantage of it even before her opinion on Jack had begun to change.

Since defeating Derek's infection, rediscovering Buffy Summers had been hard. Every step since walking into Good Spirits had been towards proving how unnecessary it was to play Slayer once the bad guy was beaten. To remind herself how to switch back on. So she welcomed him in and slid a knee along his leg and wrapped steadying hands around his upper arms. She didn't feel desperate; she felt happy.

[all7seas]

And Jack, for his part, relaxed into their rhythm when he found himself with a happy girl. The days when this woman had been his enemy seemed like another lifetime, now, but that didn't mean he wasn't wary of the Slayer when she made her appearance. Jack hadn't survived for so long because of a lack of caution around dangerous people. Right now, though, he pressed close to her, craving every inch of contact he could get.

[herotypical]

The easiest part to accept was the one where she knew that, eventually, Jack would bring that part out in her once again. They usually did -- these men. A great deal of the thrill came from those double-edges. She needed someone to challenge her or else she would take that someone for granted.

But that didn't mean that it always had to be a challenge and right now she worked with Jack Sparrow. Collaborating and allying on a level more rewarding than Buffy maybe-maybe-not sharing all of her plans with him. Together, they were gradually learning the quirks of their two particular bodies in sync and it paid to be a quick study.

[all7seas]

Together--and that was the most important thing. The General's locket hung between them, and he fought to ignore it. He didn't want to see it filling that space, or resting against her skin. Instead, he focused on her: watching her mouth, her breathing, and the expressions that crossed her face. When it seemed like he couldn't hold on for much longer, Jack dug his fingers into the sheets and whispered her name, very much asking if she was ready.

[herotypical]

In bed with Captain Jack Sparrow, she became far far less edited. She became unedited in other parts of her life, too. But nothing quite like the abandonment of composure and careful construction that took place when she was brimming with pleasure. Her lips remained parted -- giving way to breath and moans. At some point she remembered that this house was empty and a kind of safety-switch flipped off, completely surrendering any form of self-policing.

Ready was such a laughable word at a moment like this. If asked aloud, she might have even laughed amidst whimpers and tight, audible breaths. Ready sounded like a choice but what Buffy felt now was something inevitable. Unchoosable except to choose and get lost. Her body tensed and her muscles clenched and her grip was borderline-crushing. A soft oh, God and Buffy was passing far beyond ready.

[all7seas]

House Two seemed to encourage that kind of vocal abandon in Jack as well. There was no one to wake up or alarm or anger here. It was private; it felt even more private than Cullen House, in a way, which with its gigantic windows and occasional houseguests/intruders had always felt open, if remote.

Those tightened muscles brought Sparrow the rest of the way and brought him hard. When the pirate finally collapsed against her, his shuddering frame slick with sweat and the remains of the artwork they had just shared, he took care to rest against the side that did not bear a little sparrow in kohl pencil. He kissed her shoulder and murmured loving things he only half-understood and began to wonder how many bruises he would have up and down his body from her insistent hands.

[herotypical]

It wasn't until moments later that she began to feel the cooler air on her comfortably warm skin. Buffy's arms relaxed around him and she pulled him and his heat closer, softly drawing her palms across his back. In this glorious haze, Buffy decided she wouldn't trade much of anything else for this kind of tranquility. She kissed the top of his head and didn't feel the least bit wary for any field-mice families. Could every problem that ever cropped up between them be solved thusly? Because in this wake, she felt as though she could give more than fair terms on anything. Make any promise. Satisfaction got the better of her and twisted all her motives up.

An after-shiver rocked her body -- delightful and surprising and the sigh that followed it is almost musical. "I give in," she whispered. "I am officially sold on Singapore."

[all7seas]

"A dangerous thing indeed, that." Jack let his whole weight rest on her for a moment, soaking up every reaction transmitted by the lovely body beneath him; then he shifted so he could curl around her instead, pulling the comforter over them both and tucking it firmly.

The pirate wasn't entirely used to this: the afterward part. The times before when he stayed with a girl until dawn had never been like this. They'd been more for convenience, or for satiation, conning her into a warm bed, trading affections for gold.

No, now his battered soul was quietly set singing and surrendering and he thought about what more he could do for her. Anything. He'd do anything. It frightened him, this thinking about another over himself. Jack pulled her almost roughly against him and kissed her.

[herotypical]

"I laugh in the face of danger," she sad. It could have sounded quite hard but in the odd little safe-cocoon of after, it held no heroic edge. No double-meaning. No underlined suggestion of her trade.

Buffy gratefully accepted the curl of him around her and returned his kiss in kind. She was no stranger to the afterwards -- but it had never felt quite so poignant with anyone else. Riley had a habit of drifting off quickly and she, in turn, had developed a habit of sneaking out of his bed and exhausting herself on patrol. For the most part, she had always rushed to leave Spike. Even in Luceti, they had been more friendly about it than..than whatever this was becoming. It was Jack's very active kind of surrender, she thought. The way he sought out her touch and her lips.

Broadly -- with a whole hand and not just a few fingers -- she smoothed back a mess of dreads and gently held the side of his head while they kissed. Her thumb rested behind his ear.