Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop was produced by Sunrise Inc. and Bandai Visual Co. Ltd. and distributed in America exclusively under license by Bandai Entertainment in association with ZRO Limit Productions. I claim nothing.

For Gundam Girl
Merry Christmas, GG!

Eden

by

Smarty Cat

Spike . . .

His warmth struck her first. The strong, solid heat of him lying at her side soaked through her skin and down into the marrow of her bones, warming her with the awareness of his presence before she ever opened her eyes. Full red lips curled in a seductive smile. She had dreamed of him and here he was, the regular rhythm of his breathing echoing her own and his scent, spice and cigarettes and the fresh ozone of a recent rain, filling her nostrils. It occurred to her to wonder how long he had been beside her, whether her unconscious had registered his presence and incorporated it into her dreams. And whether he had done anything to influence the turn they had taken.

At that thought, a throaty moan very much like the deep rumble of a satisfied cat slipped involuntarily from her throat, and Julia stretched languorously between the sheets, reveling in the soft cloth flowing across her body. The slide of silk over naked skin stimulated nerve endings already grown taut with anticipation, and she shivered delightfully, her tongue gliding across her lips in mimicry of his phantom self. It had been a marvelous dream, fulfilling enough within sleep but nothing compared to the real thing.

It was sinful.

He was sinful.

They were sinful.

Yet it was the tang of betrayal that made their sex so satisfying. They were good together. They were forbidden. They were good together because they were forbidden. And, God help her, she had fallen for him. Hard.

She rolled to face him slowly, taking care not to wake him, and propped herself on her elbows, her eyes trailing over the lanky figure stretched out on top of the sheets beside her. The base demands of her body could wait. She cherished the moments of peace, of catching him unguarded and soft. During such times as this, she allowed herself to fancy that they were the only two people alive, Adam and Eve ruling over their own personal Eden. The steady sound of his sleeping breathing set the tempo for her own inhalations and exhalations, and she matched it without thought, wishing that he would turn his head just so so that it would waft across her skin and she could breathe him in, inhale his essence and keep him with her always.

His hair was damp with rain, and a rivulet ran down his face as she gazed upon him. It looked like he cried in his sleep, and something twisted in her chest. Vicious would kill them if he knew.

They had never intended for this to happen, for them to become Julia and Spike, Spike and Julia, forbidden lovers engaging in hurried, illicit trysts and a mutual betrayal of the man who had plucked them from the gutter and molded them into what they were, given them all they had. Given them money and power and status. Given them a place to belong. Given them one another, though that, at least, had most certainly never been Vicious' goal. Nevertheless, it had happened, and now it was too late and they had gone to far to ever go back.

But their days in Eden were drawing to an end. She could feel it coming.

There had been other men, of course, quite a few, and she had obeyed or been obeyed as circumstances dictated. Sex was a game steeped in power, and she played it well and knew how to bend the rules to her will. However, Spike was the first man she had ever been equal to, the first to meet her on a level field and to forcefully ensure that the balance of equality was not tipped in either's favor.

Julia was no fool. There would no doubt be other men after Spike as well, but she feared he had ruined her for them. Spike cared too much. Spike loved her, and she could not help but return the sentiment. But it would be Spike who would be wounded when their inevitable paring came. Spike who was so innocent in some ways despite the blood he had shed. Spike who thought love should matter. It was stupid of him, really, and there were days she wanted to scream that to him and break things and hurt him because it would be better and kinder to do it now than to let him face the blow he would be dealt in the future when she left him.

Her hand skimmed over his cheek, following the trail of the water down his face, but she would not touch him yet. A change in the quality of the air surrounding them told her that he was no longer asleep, that he was in fact aware of her every movement, but she was loath to break the illusion of tranquility, and it seemed that Spike was just as reluctant.

Her fingertips drifted back up his face and teased the ends of his hair, the damp tips clinging to her skin. She gave into the temptation they offered and threaded her fingers through the soft, fluffy mass. She loved to run her hands through his hair. One would think it would be coarse and wiry to look at it but nothing could be further from the truth. He pushed his head into her hand, and she obligingly scraped her fingernails across his scalp. Spike groaned, his arms reaching out to curl around her body and pull her on top of him. Julia sighed, nestling against his chest and dropping open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin of his neck as he ran his hands in long strokes down her body through the sheet.

"Come to bed," she murmured, voice husky with the remnants of sleep and a dream-induced desire that his caressing hands were rapidly fanning into a flame. She punctuated her request with a nip at his earlobe, and Spike hissed before pushing her away.

"I'm in bed," he responded, his voice filled with the same dry amusement as always, although his one good eye darkened with need and his hands tightened the grip on her hips.

Julia rocked those hips against him and placed her own hands over his, reminding him to loosen his grip lest he bruise her and leave evidence of their encounter for other, merciless eyes to see. "Properly."

"We don't have very long," he warned her, although he rolled her to the side and began wriggling out of his clothes.

She sat up, allowing the sheet to fall to her waist and expose her breasts, and reached for him. "I'll make it worth your while," she promised, helping to divest him of his pants.

As Spike pushed her back down on the bed and covered her body with his, he chuckled, "I'm sure you will."

Julia held him afterwards, after the passion was spent, when the promise of tangled limbs, heated skin, caressing hands, and burning eyes had been fulfilled. She cradled his head to her heart and watched the shadows creep across the ceiling as their time together slipped away.

Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, naked and unashamed. Vicious would seem to be the obvious serpent if she extended the allegory. But was he really? It was not Vicious who had tempted her and changed her forever with the knowledge of good and evil. That had been Spike.

Her grip on him tightened, and he nuzzled against her with a contented sigh, the echo of a timeless sibilant hiss resonating within it.

Man and serpent, lover and betrayer, passion and power, joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain melded and became indistinguishable.

Their days in their hidden paradise were numbered.

She was going to lose him. She had to. To keep him alive. To keep him safe.