The Man With A Thousand Faces: Nine
by redmoon
Nine

1 August, 1989, New York City

Logan rolled over his lover, dropping his lips to her neck. She let out a low moan. “I love you,” he whispered, over and over, across her shoulders as his trail of kisses led him around her body. “I never want to let you go,” he took her flesh in his mouth, making her arch. Her hands held his head, her fingers in his sweat-matted hair.

“Don’t ever” she groaned, “ever let me go.” Her head tossed from side to side, her dark hair blanketing the soft pillow. “You’ll never lose me,” Niki groaned as he feasted on her.

Suddenly he stopped. He pushed himself up on his elbows and lay heavily down beside her. She whimpered slightly, unhappy that he had stopped. “What is it?” She asked, propping her head up with one elbow. “What’s wrong?”


“You can’t promise anything,” he said anxiously, a little nervously. “You can’t promise a thing like that.” He rolled over, turning his back to her in their hotel room bed.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” she said, her hands sliding up his bare back. “I didn’t mean it that way, you know I didn’t.”

Logan rolled over again. He was plagued with guilt. Always the guilt, following him, tracking him down. It caught up with him, here, every night in this bed and he was helpless against it. When he looked into Niki’s eyes he saw little of his wife, dead now for more than a year, and that ate him up inside. How could he have waited no more than a year?

Logan closed his eyes and lay back on his back. Would he have survived another year? He still had the nightmares. His wife and daughter; massacred. His parents, his friends, his coworkers... everyone he had ever known, all killed by that... mother fucking Werlech demon.

“I’m going to do everything I can to survive,” she promised. “How’s that?” Her hand slid over his stomach and around his side and pulled him towards her with her Slayer strength.

He rolled on top of her, then knelt in the bed and pulled them both onto the floor. She laughed and fell under him. He straddled her on the thick carpet. “What am I to you?” He asked, tenderly bringing his mouth to her chest.

“You are very special to me,” she giggled as his lips tickled her.

He stopped and looked so deeply into her grey blue eyes that she stopped giggling. “Am I everything to you?” She blinked for a moment and said nothing.

“You would live without me, wouldn’t you?” He said gently, walking his fingers over her stomach, dancing them around her navel. “You’re like a rock, so steady, so solid.” Her flesh trembled as his fingers danced lower.

She giggled. “I’d like to think I’m soft in some places.” To this he smiled sadly.

“You’re strong like a rock, here” he pressed his fingers above her heart. “And here,” to her temple.

She gazed longingly into his eyes for a moment, knowing it was what he wanted. She pursed her lips, wanting to say something, anything, to ease this moment for him. Finally, she reached down and took him in her hand. “You’re like a rock here” she grinned mischievously, hoping he would respond.

After a heartbeat or two he grinned back. “Well, there’s only one thing to be done, then, isn’t there?” He grinned seductively and leaned down to kiss her again.

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