It's not a rare thing for Faye to take to bed these days — if anything, far more frequent than it used to be with so many days spent stranded in space. There are nights with Spike, where she constantly feels like the one chasing after, needing him more than she ever dares admit, needing something familiar and a reminder that the past few years didn't amount to nothing. A constant, searing desperation and a rending of her inner steel, knowing that every second is some strangely bought time that she never wanted access to. There are nights with Caesar, making pleasure into its own culture and purpose, a battle for dominance without any sharply-edged threat.

Still, this time is different, and the deft hands undoing the buttons of her shirt feel like they may as well be peeling away all the shields she's carefully built. She's not sure how he sees her. Not sure how she wants to be seen. And his fervor only throws Faye into a sharper confusion, a soft gasp falling from her lips as he sits up and the heat of his body draws closer. Her nipples brush against his chest in the movement, hardening into peaks, and she traces one hand down the strong line of his backbone while the other still rests between his thighs, moving slow and constant.

"You have no idea," she breathes, and once the hand on his back hits the small dimples to either side of his spine, Faye traces it back around, never breaking contact with his skin before she reaches his hand and redirects it, tugging it towards that ache and cupping him there. "I don't know how you think you know me already. As though you can read me like a book. Sometimes those have surprise endings."