Ginmar
Ah. Adulthood.
Buffy wearily waved goodbye and adieu to the last of her coworkers and decided
that she was going to be a little bit less conscientious next time. Sure, she
got the nifty badge that said ‘Assistant Manager,’ but she also got stuck doing
the closing, because she was so damned good at it.
After the hectic days, the silence of the restaurant was peaceful….for a few
minutes. Then she noticed how loud the fridge was when she banged the door shut.
Then she noticed the sounds and smells coming in through the drive through window.
Then she noticed resentful thoughts she had been too busy and too tired to feel
before hand. Such as, why am I stuck working my behind off? And then she would
go out and slay….till she was so tired she would collapse into bed and not think.
Not thinking was definitely good. Not remembering was even better. She found
tops to containers, labeled and dated them, carried them to the fridge and slammed
the door shut. The sound seemed to reverberate in the little restaurant. She
grabbed the green scrubbies and went to work on the baked-on gunk in the microwave,
which looked so much like demon innards that she paused and sniffed at the sponge
thoughtfully. Nope, not demon innards. American cheese. Big diff.
She was going to be so tired tonight. She knew she was going to tumble into
bed, and then there would be no thoughts…..She kept coming back to the notion
of….it. Him. That. During it, of course, there’d been no thought, except for
a conscious effort to breathe. But then….how could she not be embarrassed?
Uh. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts brought back to mind the certainty she’d had
all day the day after, that while he….he….had turned out to be way more than
she expected, she herself had somehow turned out to be less. She wondered if
she would ever be able to think about..it…without cringing. “Very mature, Buffy”.
She hauled another armload of containers to the fridge and then gave the door
and satisfying bang. It was so humid in the kitchen area, where there were no
windows at all, despite the fact that it was the area most likely to need them
in the whole restaurant. She sighed, turned, around, and then went to the drive
through. Just for a minute. She needed the air. She was distinctly aware of
how flushed her face felt, but it wasn’t the exertion that did it. She pushed
open the window, and leaned out, smelling the jasmine on the rain-heavy air.
Breathing. Very good.
Oh, it would be so good if she never saw him again, because when she had, she
saw it all again…..Who would have known what he was like? How could she have
known? With Riley, well, it was very much like Riley during normal circumstances,
except there was more sweat involved. Sometimes there was jaw clenching. Then
there were the sheets. Always sheets in the way, getting entangled in them,
keeping her from….
She gulped down the soda because her throat was abruptly dry.
With Spike…She wasn’t even aware she was holding her breath. With Spike….who
knew how soft his face was capable of getting? How could she have possibly known
how long his eyelashes were till she saw them suddenly as his eyes squeezed
shut beneath her, gasping, as he shuddered under her, in her, his hands clenching
on her hips? There had been no sheets in the way with Spike; not even clothes
after the first time, not after they’d torn frantically at each other’s buttons
and snaps, kissing, gasping, separating for necessary seconds, then desperately
positioning and ……And she wouldn’t forget that.
He was beautiful, the look on his face as she slid down on him slowly, his hands
tightening on her hips convulsively. But she was sure there was nothing alluring
about the way she had looked….She remembered the sensation too well, now, staring
off into the twilight, feeling again the twinges of arousal that made her body
move without her permission in ways she hadn’t known it was capable of. It wasn’t
supposed to be like that; she was certain of it. How could she believe it was
like that, that people could do that, then get up, get dressed, and go out into
the world and leave behind the memory of what they’d done in the darkness?
They’d slept intermittently through the night, and then she’d awakened with
a gasp, from a dream she couldn’t remember…a dream of aching pleasure, to find
his hands on her breasts, her body twisting and turning, and Spike, between
her legs in the darkness, as invisible as if he’d been in a mirror, but, oh,
she could hear what he was doing, as surely as she could feel it….Though at
first, she didn’t believe what he was doing….And then she was too far gone.
It was one thing for her to see him as he shuddered with pleasure so intense
it almost hurt, to see his face more naked than his body, but for him to see
her, to taste her, to touch her….that was not fair. And he hadn’t stopped, till
she was so weak she almost cried, as certainly as if he’d drained her blood.
What was it he had drained from her instead?
The noise behind her made her whirl around and she dropped the soda in a plume
of foam on the floor. For a second, they stared at each other, she white-faced
except for two hectic spots of red on each cheek, he, somewhat abashed, scratching
nervously at his jaw with his thumb.
“Y—Y—Y—You’re not supposed to be in here.”
He shrugged, glancing around, carefully, his posture stiff and careful.
“I—I—have a job to do, you know, I can’t do it with you hanging over me…”
Oh. Bad. Oh, so very bad. She could just see him again, just at the moment he
was about to….She gawped at him, her flush turning deeper and deeper.
“I have stuff to do, you can’t lurk around like this….”
She brushed by him, too close, and smelled him so intensely that she shivered
with it. He wasn’t happy about getting brushed off, either…He frowned at her,
and she shuddered away from him, not in fear….of him, that is, but of herself…one
little slip…
Then she was at the preparation table, and there were things to do, and she
prattled away at him, in the desperate hope she might possibly scare him away
with the power of inane chatter…..
”You know, I need this job, I can’t have people visiting me, and you were already
here this afternoon, what, do you like making me feel bad?”
Oh, she flinched at that, knowing perfectly well that that was not the case
at all…
”I can’t afford to lose this job, I have Dawn to think about, I have the house
payment….” I have the smell of your cigarettes around me, the smell of the leather
we laid on, rolled on, what are you thinking….”
She folded and packaged and arranged, babbling, while he lounged beside her
against the edge of the table, his side to her, where if she just glanced out
of the corner of her eye she’d see his lean figure, wonder if the scratches
she’d left on his chest when she’d….
She stopped abruptly. It was absolutely silent in the restaurant. Even the clock
ticked too quietly. She could almost hear her legs trembling.
If she turned, she would see him, see that concerned look on his face…. If she
turned….
He saved her from the effort. He leaned in and kissed her, and the silence was
broken by the sibilance of kisses, the creak of leather. She wasn’t even aware
of turning, her arms sliding up his arms to his neck, just as long as his mouth
was on hers, just as long as she could taste his tongue…
In a fraction of a second, she was pressed between him and the table, and he
was harder than the table. She’d never known kisses like this, except perhaps
with Angel, so eloquent and so urgent at the same time, accompanied by those
little noises she’d never noticed before.
His arms went all the way around her, but they didn’t stay in one place, as
if she were territory he had to experience before he could be satisfied.
He broke off for air, her chin in one hand, looking into her eyes. Oh, God,
why did he have to do that, he looked at her as if he couldn’t fathom what his
eyes were seeing, like she was some treasure. He caught her frown, too, and
folded his palm against her cheek, as if she were some fractious child.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He whispered back. “Like I love you?”
Still, she thought. Still he did. It was her turn to look back, to search for
ambiguity that wasn’t there. She couldn’t have said what she felt then, even
if she knew what it was, and she didn’t even know that much.
Instead she kissed him again, and hoped it said what she couldn’t. They backed
into the kitchen area, banging up against the wall, which was good because her
legs were shaking, and which was bad as well, because walls were precisely how
they’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
There were two layers of clothes too many between them, and their hands skidded
over leather and cotton with clutching, greedy fingers. He found her breast
with one hand and in one smooth echoing movement surged against her so urgently
that she arched one leg around his legs without even being aware of it.
His hand dropped from her breast to the waistband of her skirt, and he pulled
back from the kiss, watching her as his hand slid past her belly button, till
they both gasped.
Her hands clenched around his neck, in his hair, and in her extremity, she couldn’t
even look away from his eyes. He pressed his forehead to hers and thrust his
mouth against hers, even as their pelvises ground together and his fingers plunged
into her soaking depths.
He pulled back and she realized he was holding his breath as she was. She was
alert to only two things; his face and what he was doing to her. And his face
had that soft look that she had seen only before when he had been about to explode,
so why now…why…It was if her pleasure gave him as much pleasure as his own.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She first arched against him, then sagged
against his shoulder as it hit her, her muscles shuddering to a stop, and then
spasming with the release, aftershock hitting her again and again. Then there
was forever, till she was aware she was breathing again, and she was standing,
and her inner muscles were quivering with weakness and eagerness.
Then she realized he was more or less holding her up like she was a child. He
gave her a very tentative, almost sleepy smile, and she pulled him to her mouth
to kiss him languorously, luxuriously, long slow wet kisses that ended abruptly
as they pressed closer together.
She slid her hands over his chest, and with a boldness she’d never felt before,
slid her hands to his crotch and caressed the straining bulge there almost abashedly.
Her reward was the way he gasped back from her mouth, and opened and closed
his mouth with a shudder. His eyes were huge, and his entire body shook against
her.
“I did that to him”, she thought.
”Oh, I know what else I want to do”, she thought, and then they were stumbling
against the back door into the alley.
They broke apart long enough to prop the door apart and then Spike was backing
her against the old metal fire escape, till she sat on one of the steps suddenly.
Once her shaking legs no longer had to bear her weight, she suddenly found all
kinds of strength in her hands, pulling his shirt out of his pants so she could
caress his chest, finding his nipples with her mouth, while he fumbled with
his belt and her breast alternatively. With shaking hands, he ripped open her
blouse and seized one of her nipples between his teeth, and Buffy made a gasping
choking sound she’d never made before.
She found his fly with her hands and ripped it open, shoving his jeans down
just far enough to free his erection. At the touch of her hands, Spike jerked
convulsively and his cock bobbed against her soaking folds. He grabbed her face
between both hands and kissed her so savagely she moaned, while he thrust against
her. He broke free for one second, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon,
and then pushed her panties aside with one hand.
Then he pressed his erection against her and found her entrance with a long
explosive sigh. She grabbed his hips to pull him closer, her eyes locked with
his, biting her lip to keep from making any more noise, which resolve lasted
precisely as long as it took him to begin thrusting, faster and faster. Oh,
she knew the things men and women did together, but she never knew it could
be like this, that she could be doing this, anywhere, and not care, as long
as he was buried inside her and his eyes were on her, as long as his face looked
as if he was in pain, and she was the only thing who could bring him surcease….It
had never been like this, a fever that fed itself, a hunger that perpetuated
its existence.
He was the one inside her but she felt she was inside him, and it still wasn’t
enough; she wanted to crawl inside him. She wrapped her legs around him to bring
him closer and it still wasn’t close enough, not while there were clothes between
them, not while he was separated from her by so much as his skin.
She could feel her muscles tightening, knew she was getting close, and looked
up at him, gasping.
“Look at me, look at me….” She whispered.
She could hear only the creak of the step she was on, the noises they made,
the noises their bodies made, and it was too much for her to hang on any longer.
The crescendo broke over her and she arched beneath him as if shocked by an
electric current, shuddering as each wave broke over her. Her climax sent him
over the edge, and she held his face in her hands as his eyes squeezed shut
almost in pain and he jerked against her. Everything had been fast and furious
before this; now everything was exquisitely slow. They kissed as if tasting
each other for the first time, lazily, almost sleepily, feeling the twinges
of soreness.
“Oh, this is crazy”, she thought. “This is crazy, crazy”.
He slipped out of her, and pulled his pants back up, managing this despite never
once stopping the kissing. He helped her adjust her clothes, which she was amazed
to discover included her panties.
It wasn’t until she put her feet on the ground that she realized she was till
shaking, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Spike was still ‘helping’, kissing
her with sighs mixed in, so that it was impossible to do more than tug at her
shirt before the kissing took over, and clothes be damned.
Somehow they got all adjusted and covered despite never once separating at the
mouth, which is probably what caused them to reach the wall and stay there.
At long last, it was possible, even necessary to pull apart and breathe. She
buried her face in his chest and rubbed her nose against his shirt, which made
him laugh, and which in turn made her giggle because she could feel it.
“What?” He demanded bemusedly.
“I just realized how much I’m going to like this job.”
Buffy stirred her cornflakes slowly, and tried to get
conscious thoughts sloshing through her brain.
“Huh?”
“Work? Last night?” Willow asked hopefully.
“Oh, work.”
Yeah, work, another place which now had Spike connotations,
which she hoped was not another word for residue or something. Now she’d
have to dump garbage in the alley and try not to look the fire escape in
the eye.
“It was okay.” “It was more than okay. He kissed me in
such a way my knees are still quivering now, and I’d really like to know
what it would be like in a bed, hell, even on a floor that didn’t have
construction debris all over it…Oh, crap. Carpeting. Carpeting would be
good. Crap again. Bad thoughts”.
“Well,” she sighed. “I worked. It was boring, and
then it was over, and for this I will get paid the sort of wages they do
exposes about on Sixty Minutes.”
She looked expectantly at Will, but noticed how deflated
her friend suddenly looked.
“Maybe somebody else came back wrong besides me”, she
thought. “From where? The living room? At least I have an excuse. God,
what if there was a camera in the back room? What would it be like if we
just took our time? Crap.” She sighed, and then abruptly realized that
her sigh was being misinterpreted by her best friend.
“ ‘s okay, Will, I just have to get used to…” “Getting
kissed like that. Maybe if I got some more practice at it….Crap.” ”Well”,
she thought, “at least now I know why Spike says bloody hell all the time.
I feel exactly like that right about now. “Willow looked very subdued.
“Do you have to work again tonight?” “No. Have to
patrol.” “In Spike’s crypt. No. Absolutely not. Bad. Very bad Buffy. It
was only twice, there’s still time to call it a bad habit…”
Although, technically speaking, it hadn’t been just twice.
Not if you counted everything….How did one quantify sexual acts? Did it
just count if, at the conclusion, someone, not that names needed to be
named, scratched a certain party’s back and wasn’t even aware of it till
much, much later?
Not even then, it had to be at least six times, which
was beyond the bad habit category, and how could it be a bad habit, a mere
activity, when…She suddenly saw Spike’s face so vividly it was almost like
he was in front of her.
“It wasn’t just the orgasm Olympics or something”, she
thought suddenly. “Not for him. Crap. “ “You need to rest,” Willow said.
“You just look so tired.”
“Yeah. Maybe I am.” Buffy said quietly. “I slept
clean through the alarm.” “That’s okay.” Willow said cheerfully.
“That’s what I’m here for.” “To make sure I sleep through the alarm?” “Yes,
that’s my mission in life.” Willow eyed her with a trace of her old sarcasm.
“No, getting Dawn off to school, making the breakfast….I mean, if you’re
going to keep working the night shift, that works well with the Slayage,
and then I have school during the day, so there’ll always be someone around
for Dawn.”
”Yes, Dawn”. Buffy thought. “God, what would she think
if she knew?” Then a new and more insistent thought reared its head. “What
would Xander think?” Xander. Buffy looked up at Will, but the other girl
had taken her plate to the sink, and was running hot water---a lot of hot
water, which was expensive…to wash their breakfast dishes. Will would try
to understand. And try to talk her out of it. And Xander would be furious,
but who with was the question.
Why did they have to know? Like any fever it would run
its course….Buffy stopped that thought suddenly, knowing that it was unfair.
“Will? I’m going to go take a shower, okay?”
She brought her still half-full bowl of cornflakes to
the sink, and Will gave her a cheery smile. “Okay.”
Was it her imagination, or was Will doing lots more housework
since Dawn’s broken arm? Admittedly, some of it was just because Dawn simply
couldn’t do things. But some of it was undoubtedly guilt. Or at least she
hoped it was guilt.
The worst thing, Buffy thought uncomfortably, was that
Will didn’t seem too guilty. The subject had not been brought up, and Buffy
had tried, and then, deciding that perhaps Will was too unnerved by it,
had simply waited. But within days, Will had gone back to being perky,
and Buffy had started to get nervous.
”Why is it that Will doesn’t feel bad about causing the
accident that got Dawn’s arm broken, and I feel bad about making love with
someone who makes me scream?”Buffy froze, half way up the steps. Not making
love. Just sex. With Riley, that had been making love….but this was just
sex. Not to Spike.
She flopped down on her bed, and sat there, and now her
thoughts were as traitorous as her body. She was worried about what her
friends thought if they found out she was having sex with Spike. What would
they say if she said it was more? She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to come
clean, if only she gave the okay. Actually, he already had. The gang all
knew how he felt about her, except, oh, yes, he hadn’t had that opportunity.
She was the one who’d told everybody, making it sound as if it were some
sort of sick adolescent crush.
But it was!
Was. Not anymore. Certainly he had changed.
”People don’t change, her right brain countered. Do vampires?
It’s impossible. So is bringing the dead back to life. Crap .”
Was it her?
With Riley, after they made love, she’d be happy for a
while, a couple of days. If they made love, fine, if not, fine. She had
to admit that. And he had been so stoic about it. An occasional groan,
some grimacing, but he was always in charge. Always in control. Always
so logical, even in bed, the last place in the world she wanted…logic.
Bad. Very bad.
Even before the next thought had sprung from her subconscious,
she could feel her face flushing. With Spike, she could still be breathing
as fast and as hard as if she’d run an obstacle course, and he could have
only just pulled out of her, and she would want him again. Only exhaustion
had stopped them, and she didn’t even know vampires could be exhausted.
Spike certainly wasn’t stoic, either. She had loved watching
him in extremis, watching the sensations course over his face, even his
body, like reflections skating over the surface of a lake at twilight.
He held nothing back, not from her, and she knew if she asked for more,
he wouldn’t hesitate. Was it his feelings for her that made the difference?
Was it just him?
Because I’m just the same with him.
Because I have no control with him.
Because if I act like he does, does that mean I feel the
same way?
“Buffy?!”
”Hm. Crap. Grrrrr. Argh”.
Buffy yawned explosively and wondered when precisely her
bedroom ceiling had developed that water stain. Someone was tapping on
her door, and she didn’t think it was a raven. Dawn poked her head in.
“Lazybones.”
“Is there a minimum daily requirement of harassment
you have to dish out?”
“Yeah, well, somone’s got to.” Dawn came over and
flopped on the bed. “Will said your work went okay.”
“Yeah.” Buffy said cautiously. Hm, normal conversation
with a teenager? Could this be happening? “It wasn’t bad.”
“I could get a job, too.” Dawn said softly, and
Buffy’s heart twisted.
Before she could do more than that, Dawn rushed ahead.
“I could deliver papers, you know.”
“In Sunnydale? With a broken arm?”
“After the broken arm is fixed.” Dawn said loftily.
Buffy bit back any number of replies. “Besides, I could get Spike to help
me.”
Spike. Helping Dawn. Saving her life, she could believe.
But….Buffy was literally rendered speechless by the mental image Dawn so
casually provoked. Spike. With an excuse to be in the house before
the sun rose every morning. Bad. Very bad.
“Why do you want to get a job, Dawn? You’re only
fifteen.”
“Cause.” Dawn said softly, bowing her head. “Cause
you’re working, and you’re so tired all the time, and---and----I want to
help. Cause we might lose the house.”
“Who said that?”
“I heard someone talking.”
“Who?”
“Now you’re mad.”
“Sweetie, I’m not mad at you. But I really don’t
think it’s that bad, and I’d know. And nobody should be saying stuff like
that about you.”
“But you were so tired you slept all day. You shouldn’t
have to work like that, at that place, you should have some fun….You sang….”
“Oh, Dawnie….” Buffy sat up. “I’m a grownup. That’s
part of the job. My job is to make sure that you ---you don’t have to get
a job.”
“What if I just want to make some money for stuff?”
“Like how much money do you need? And what for?
Hard drugs?”
Dawn giggled, a sure sign she was trying. Buffy was startled;
she was almost sure Dawn would have exploded in a fit of fifteen-year-old
hormones. “No, soft drugs only.” She said pertly.
“Give me some time, Dawnie, okay? This is the Hellmouth.
Do we even have paperboys?”
“I’ve seen the want ads for them.”
“Were the ads placed by the Sunnydale Register,
or by the Vampire Times?”
“Funn—eeee. Not.” Dawn flopped back on the bed.
“Are you going to patrol tonight?”
“Yeah. “Buffy got up and stretched.
“Could you ask Spike what he thinks?”
“Oh. Uh.” Buffy wondered just how flushed her face
got. “Sure. If I see him.” “Crap. Now I have a reason to see him, instead
of an excuse. Crap”.
Patrol actually went rather well. Staking vamps enabled
her to get her suddenly all-too-imaginative mind off one of them; then
suddenly she looked around, and there weren’t any there. Except one. Crap.
“Nice skirt, love. Didn’t realize you were that
big a fan of Britney.”
He lit a cigarette while she thought, “Bloody hell. Why
did I wear a skirt? Haven’t done that in ages”.
Not since last night, at any rate. She flushed abruptly.
How could it be so difficult talking to him when it was positively effortless
to kiss him…?
”Laundry day. Nothing else clean.” “And here I thought
I was the inspiration.” His eyes flicked up and down. “You’re all tense,
luv. Didn’t sleep well?”
She stared at him for a minute, thinking, why is this
conversation happening in a graveyard? Why can’t I have The Talk in a restaurant?
Other people do. She braced herself preparing to hear things about herself
that would make her cringe because they were true, and then looked at him,
suddenly, wondering what was going on. She could just about hear something
snapping. What was she doing standing away from him when she just wanted
to climb up him like he was a tree?
“No. I didn’t sleep good. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Such as?”
She cocked her head at his tone, the tone that came out
when she needed it most. It seemed to spring from the corner of his personality
that the others never saw, only she and Dawn. Which was, of course, a problem
in itself.
“Such as….” She sighed deeply, thinking of words
that would keep him at bay till she was overwhelmed again. “Such as….”
Oh, hesitation. That was very bad, because it allowed
her to remember things she shouldn’t be remembering. Because then she wanted
to try them all over again.
“Look, Buff,” Spike tossed his cigarette on the
ground. “I’d love to sit and wait for you to make up your mind, but I figured
it’d take less time to wait for the seasons to change, okay? So why don’t
you let me know when you come to a decision?”
“What?”
“I can’t keep doing this. “
He looked at her, the sort of look he usually had when
they were about to rip each others’ clothes apart. Actually, now that she
thought about it, it wasn’t that different from the Secret Spike look he
had when he was being nice.
“You know how I feel about you; all I want to know is
how you feel about me. That’s it. Real simple. Just….that. But I can’t
keep doing this.” HE shook his head, a bit of anger in the movement. “Or
you.”
“What am I supposed to say, Spike?” She burst out.
He literally brushed her off, waving off the rest of whatever
she had been about to say, turning and walking away from her.
“Okay. How about this?” She grabbed his sleeve.
“How am I supposed to explain something to you that I
don’t understand myself? I don’t understand this, and I understand dying,
and killing, and vampires, and demons, and all sorts of things. But I don’t
understand what I feel about you. And you know why, Spike!”
She held her ground as he flinched away from her look.
“’What did it take to pry apart the Slayer’s dimpled knees?’”
He sighed at that, too, and she wondered if she’d gone
too far, but it had to be said, and she knew that if it didn’t come bursting
out now, she didn’t think she could be able to do it again.
“I don’t understand this, and it scares me. I’d be scared
any time, but now? I really want to ask my Mom, but she’s not here. And
my best friend?”
She took a breath that sounded perilously close to weeping,
and Spike grimaced.
“Those guys you wanted to know about? They did everything
they were supposed to, but I never felt like this with them. They had my
heart in their hands, and they just squeezed…but you…..”
She took a deep breath that did nothing to settle her
feelings, and then forged on ahead.
“You know how I really slept? I slept about as good as
I ever have, at least since the night in that old house.”
She snapped the words out and Spike goggled at her.
“I slept really well then. I think it was you. I think
it was being next to you. I don’t know what it is I feel about you, but
I want you to know that. I just don’t know. It confuses me. I never felt
this way before about anybody, and I don’t understand it. I don’t know
if understanding it would be a good thing, but I just want you to know.
I just…”
He stepped forward quickly, putting his mouth on hers
before she realized it, and by the time she realized it, she was against
the tree and his hands were cupping her buttocks, molding her against his
front.
She broke off the kiss and shoved at his chest with both
hands, which landed him on his butt in the grass. In an instant she was
in his lap.
“Oh, God”, Buffy thought, “this is so bad, but how can
it be bad, when he feels like this, when he tastes like this….”
She fumbled with the fly of his jeans, then ripped it
impatiently, provoking a sharp intake of breath from Spike. She wasn’t
sure if she’d hurt him or not, because he made exactly the same sound when
her hand closed around him. Oh, he felt like silk in her hand, and then
she was closing down on him, around him, which made Spike suck his breath
in through his teeth.
He found her clitoris with his thumb and she rocked on
it, her mouth waxing and waning against his, which was oddly exciting,
enough of a distraction that it took him several seconds to realize that
something was missing. Her panties. He traced up to her belly button with
his free fingers and Buffy broke off the kiss as she realized what he was
doing.
She had thrown him to the ground, his penis was inside
her, she was just about to orgasm with his thumb buried against her, and
she blushed a deep, deep red when she realized he’d discovered her secret.
For an endless moment, as her muscles convulsed hotly
around him and pulled all of his senses with them, he thought that it had
finally happened; they’d come so hard that they’d fused, and they’d be
joined like this forever. It was so lengthy, so hard, that the roots of
his hair hurt. ”Love doth make fools of men”, he thought foolishly, and
wished he could remember the poet’s name.
He was so exhausted that he just wanted to die, but he
suspected that would get him staked, even though it was a compliment in
an odd sort of way. He could still feel throbs and pulses of pleasure in
her muscles and his and he figured if he so much as moved there might be
an unexpected encore.
Then he remembered the abashed way she’d looked, just
before she came, when she’d realized her secret was out, and he had to
give her such an involuntary, genuine smile that she grabbed his shoulders
and kissed him ferociously.
Finally he had to break it off. Reluctantly, he lifted
her off him, which was rather difficult to accomplish while joined at the
lips, but he managed.
“What?” She said.
He saw the look of worry on her face, and wondered briefly
how such a woman could possibly doubt her allure. He steadied her as she
stood, and brushed leaves from the ridiculously demure skirt.
“I just remembered something.” He said softly.
“What?”
“I have a bed.”
Spike led the way into the crypt, lighting candles as
he headed toward the ladder that led to the lower level. Buffy hung back
a bit, and he turned and looked into her eyes. She reached out a hand,
and he took it and led her with him.
He lit more candles, then stopped, turning, looking at
her. When he had finished, he returned to where she was only halfway down
the ladder, and leaned forward, dropping to one knee on the step in front
of her, his eyes never leaving hers.
She sat down abruptly, her knees having lost all their
strength. He leaned into her mouth, his hands sliding up her thighs, his
body separating her knees, his mouth opening against hers, his tongue….
Buffy broke away, her heands clutching his hair, to look
at him, wondering if she would ever see the same facial expression on him
twice. He was like a kaleidoscope sometimes, always different….
Then he was pulling her against him, lifting her against
him, and then they were falling on the bed, and they were ripping frantically
at each others’ clothes. He was entirely too good at kissing, soft and
wet, hard and urgent, all at once, too much, till she bit his lip and he
grinned down at her. He nipped at her chin, just a little, and she traced
the scar in his eyebrow with a thumb.
The thought suddenly occurred to her: “No one can find
us. We have all night. All night. Hours upon hours”.Spike traced her cheekbones
with his thumbs, and kissed the tip of her nose. He decided that perhaps
he’d missed a spot by her earlobe; then, oh no, there was another spot
down by her breast. Oh, she had all kinds of little noises, he thought,
but none was as naked as the gasp she made as he slid further down, kissing,
till he hit her navel, and lifted her knee over his shoulder.
“Spike!”
“Present.”
“What---what---“
Spike, poised between her legs, rested his head on her
thigh, and gave her the Look of Death. Ah, that was familiar, she thought.
“I’m making a collect call, Buff.”
“But there’s lights…”
Aha. He kissed the soft stomach between her navel and
her brown curls.
“Yes, luv, there are, which is a good thing, isn’t it.”
“Well…”
He had wondered to himself before, and now he figured
he knew the answer. Never. Not the sort of thing Angel would have tried
with a virgin, hell nor anyone, and that silly git who’d tossed her away,
well, no doubt there. As far as Captain Cardboard, he really couldn’t imagine
the guy being so generous.
He looked at her and lowered his chin till he was giving
her the most wicked look in his extensive repertoire.
“Yes, there’s lights, because you know what? I want to
see you. Every bit of you. I want to remember you, every taste, every smell,
every bit, so the next time I have to listen to Xander or Anya yapping
about wedding dresses, I can remember you and how you felt, and how you
moved, and everything you did. Even I can’t see that well in the dark,
though.”
He slowly stuck his tongue out at her, locking with her
eyes, and took an exploratory taste. She was bright red, and it was actually
sort of adorable.
“But…you know…the…”
If she turned any brighter, she’d explode, he thought.
“But?”
He held her eyes, dipping his head very slowly, while
she tried half-heartedly to close her thighs. If she wanted to, she could
have snapped his head off with one twist, but she didn’t.
She was still wet from their earlier encounter, but she
was also swollen and trembling again. He parted the damp curls with his
tongue, never taking his eyes from hers, till he reached her swollen clit
and sucked it into his mouth. A fresh surge coated his fingers and he marveled
with his last bits of coherent thought how responsive she was.
Then he began to suck and lick in earnest, and she moaned
as if she were in pain, and arched off the blankets. She thrust her pelvis
so hard against his face he had to lay his hands flat against her stomach
to keep her from breaking his nose.
Then she froze, her eyes huge, and he felt them at the
same time she did, the irresistible pulses of orgasm. Her breathing was
harsh and unsteady in the silence of the tomb. He noticed she didn’t take
any trouble to keep her legs modestly closed now, but her leg muscles were
trembling so badly he didn’t know if she could.
He was as hard as iron now, and looking at her all flushed
wasn’t helping any. He crawled up her body and settled on top of her, her
legs wrapping around him almost automatically. She cupped his shoulders
with her hands and looked up at him with bewilderment. “I just…”
“Hm?”
She flushed all over again and he mentally reviewed the
things that didn’t make her blush: climbing him like a tree, riding him
like a pony (but that had been in the dark) shagging him frantically in
the graveyard, or up against a wall where she worked. But passionate as
she was in the dark, she was shy about the light. “Hm.” “Is it always
like this?” “You mean…? No.” He said finally. “For you…”
“Even….?”
He paused for so long she was afraid she’d said something
she shouldn’t.
“No. Not even then.” He looked not at her, but elsewhere,
and then at her again, rather mischievously. “You?”Buffy blushed all over
again.
“No.”
He kissed her again, savoring the taste of her mouth,
the way she pulled away periodically to sigh, which was wonderful because
then her breasts crushed even harder against him. She was trembling, too,
so much that it worried him enough to stop and look down at her. She looked
up at him with wide eyes, almost curiously. Then she shook her head and
asked,
“Who are you?”
“I hope this isn’t the point at which you usually
ask that question, luv.”
She actually smiled at that. “No, who are you?”
She traced his cheek with the backs of her fingers. “You’re
so…” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She touched his mouth with just
one fingertip, her eyes fixed on his, intense, still with that same expression
of curiosity. “I don’t know you.” She whispered.
“Yes, you do.” He couldn’t figure out why, but it
was very necessary to duplicate her whisper. “You’ve known me all along.
Since….”
“No, just since..I don’t know.”
He realized why she was whispering, then; she couldn’t
raise her voice because it would be too unsteady.
“But now….”
She was blushing furiously, her usual response to any
intense emotion, but she kept looking into his eyes, unabashedly, making
him drown, making him shiver, too, with something that felt almost like
heat, even him, a cold creature who’d been so long without he could barely
remember it. Then she pulled him down and kissed him hard, saying things
she couldn’t put into words, shoving him over on his back, and then she
was gone.
“Huh?”
Spike lifted his head and looked at Buffy, kissing her
way down his body, her warm hand cupping his erection and she sucked on
his nipples, then his navel.
“Did Adam and Eve have navels?” He thought suddenly, which
made almost as much sense as Buffy, working her way down his suddenly tense
body, because there was no way she was going to…
But she did. Oh, God, this just wasn’t happening, her
mouth was so hot, and she was tasting him like he was a lollipop, getting
used to the flavor…
”Buff…What are you doing? Buffy, stop….”
She looked at him with an expression of bewilderment that
he realized, could turn into offense in a heartbeat.
“Don’t you want me to?” “Do you want to?”
Ah, wrong question. Oh, this was not happening, he wasn’t
going to be able to stop, to last, she was acting as if he was delicious,
the way she was, and oh, God, she was kissing his balls now, oh no, stop
that, that was too much, it was just too much for him, good thing his heart
didn’t beat, right about now it would be exploding…
Buffy watched his reactions, watched him twist, heaving
himself up on his elbows, even while his head arched back. She took his
penis back into her mouth, licking the slit, which made his whole body
stiffen as if he’d been electrocuted.
“Oh, God, Buffy, I’m going to ---stop, I’m going to---OH---“
Buffy sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed, and Spike exploded,
his hips helplessly jerking slightly, and his eyes squeezing shut as if
he were in pain. He was utterly abandoned in his ecstasy, and Buffy thought
mildly, that maybe he’d had a point. Now, if she was bored, she could just
picture him, and well, that would certainly take her mind off her boredom.
He was so beautiful, so lost in the pleasure she’d given him……
She crawled up him, just slightly, nestling his limp penis
comfortably between her breasts. Spike, still breathing hard, looked down
at her with almost alarm, shaking his head weakly.
“Who are you?”
She lowered her head to his stomach, and just looked at
him.
“That’s when you usually ask that question?”
There wasn’t any progress on the monster, even though
they went through pretty much every book in the Magic Box. Buffy wondered
if their lack of progress might be partly due to the fact that she had
spent the afternoon in bed with Spike, although, technically, it wasn’t
in the bed after the first couple of times.
Progress was also not helped by the way he sat across
from her at the table, his thumb circling a spot on the table in the exact
same way he circled that spot on her cheekbone when he kissed her, the
exact same way he circled her nipple.
He slouched bonelessly in his chair, which seemed to irritate
Xander in some pissy little way that made Xander sigh repeatedly till Spike
eyed him and said,
“Spring a leak, Floppy Boy?”
“Let’s go somewhere else.” Anya burst out suddenly.
“Where? The bridal shop?” Xander asked.
“We could stop there.” She said brightly. “But this
is stupid; we’ve looked at everything, we’ve called Giles…”
“You, ah, called Giles?” Buffy asked carefully.
“What did you say?”
“We told him about the frost monster.”
“Yeah, you could have told him yourself if you’d
been around.” Xander said.
“Gee, the jobs cut into my chatting time,” Buffy
said drily. She eyed him carefully, not certain of whether she should be
cautious or not.
“She’s working every night,” Willow said. “Plus
the patrolling, so Xander what’s your problem?”
“Nothing.” He muttered. “Nothing.”
“How about the Bronze?” Anya said eagerly.
“What?” Everyone said.
“How about the Bronze?”
“For what?”
“I’m sick of this.” She exclaimed. “We’ve done everything,
and we still don’t know anything! This is pointless.!”
“Maybe she does have a point.” Spike said. “We could
use a break.”
“Can we all fit in your car?” Buffy asked.
Xander drew himself up and glared at Spike, but before
it went any further, Buffy glanced from one to the other, and inadvertently
made things worse.
“I’ll ride with Spike. You guys go together.”
Xander kept silent except for a tight lipped, “Buffy,
wear a helmet. Spike….Don’t wear one.”
Spike chuckled a bit at Xander’s glare, then zipped off,
leaving Xander staring after them.
“Xander, what is wrong with you?” Anya demanded
“Something’s going on with them.” He said tightly.
“What do you mean?” Willow asked.
Xander thought of actually telling what he suspected,
but decided on a partial truth.
“I don’t know, I just think they’re spending too much
time together. And Spike never stopped, you know, well, he just hangs around
her all the time, and he’s got that accent, and he’s not bad looking, and
she’s well, what kind of mood has she been in? She might do something stupid.”
“Spike’s not stupid.” Anya said thoughtfully.
“No, she wouldn’t…” Willow said worriedly. “It would
be very unhealthy…he’s a bad person.”
“Well,” Anya said thoughtfully. “He did help a lot
with us this summer.”
“That was just to make himself feel better after
she died.” Xander said scornfully.
“How?” Willow asked softly. She looked as if she’d
suddenly been zapped by something.
“What?”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does, he knew he screwed up, he, ah…” Xander
was starting to get nervous as it dawned on him that he’d said something
entirely different from what he’d wanted to.
“It wouldn’t make him feel better.” Willow said
softly. “It would make him feel worse, being reminded of her all the time.
He couldn’t stand the Buffybot after Buffy died. You didn’t see him, Xander,
but I did.”
“Well, he should have, that was disgusting.”
“And he did.” Willow pointed out with just a bit
of impatience. “But if you look at what he’s done, you can’t say he’s still
the same.” Almost cringingly, she glanced around. “He did help us a lot,
and we never really thanked him.”
“Well, why should we? Thank you for not killing
us this year? Thanks for not eating us? It’s just that chip.”
“The chip only stops him, Xander. It doesn’t make
him do some of the stuff he’s done.”
“He just wants Buffy to be his—“
“Well, if he’s evil, there’s nothing to stop him
from getting all kinds of minions to seize Buffy or something for him.
If that’s all he wanted, he wouldn’t have been so broken up when she died…
And then, with Glory…”
“Just trying to curry favor with Buffy so he could…”
“Xander, you’re not listening to me. She was going
to kill him. If all he wanted was, well, well…just, you know….”
“That’s just what Spike said.”
“He never said that, Xander. And you saw him. You
saw how badly he was beaten up. And you know Buffy was going to his crypt
just to stake him.”
“So he saved his skin.” Xander said impatiently.
“That’s what he’s always done.”
“You’re not listening to me, Xander.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because it’s not fair.” Willow said softly. “I
don’t know what’s going on, but I did see what he was like after Buffy
died.”
“Yeah, so…?”
“People change.” Willow said.
“He’s not a people, Will, he’s a vampire. He’s always
been bad. And he’ll always be that way.”
Willow gave him a look. “Sure. And I’ll always be straight.”
She gave him a look. “And maybe you will be, too.”
Spike sipped at his beer. “Don’t see them yet.”
“Not good.” Buffy said. “I bet they’re fighting.
I just wonder who’s saying what.”
“Don’t worry. What would they do?”
“Well, you don’t care if they glare at you all the time…”
“They do that anyway.”
“And besides, they’ll probably give me the worst bridesmaid
dress.”
“You look good in anything.” He leaned in very, very close.
“Or nothing.”
She blushed furiously, and he wanted to kiss her badly
it hurt.
“Ah. Judge Judy at three o’clock.” He nodded at an angry-looking
little group approaching. “Just do what I do. Think of something else.”
He smirked at her. “Me, for example. Naked.”
“That was helpful.”
“I aim to please.”
“Bastard.”
“I’ll have you know, my parents were married.”
“Shut up now.”
Bearing down on them, Willow studied the pair curiously,
and she realized that Xander might be right. Buffy looked tense, but Spike
looked entirely too relaxed, and he was leaning in Buffy’s direction, almost
touching. Despite Buffy’s tension, there was something there, the way they
were side by side, in almost identical positions. Buffy might be tense
with the Scoobies, but she seemed entirely comfortable with Spike.
Willow studied Spike, wondering if her judgement could be trusted. How
could she judge Buffy for finding someone when all she herself had done
was lose someone?
Xander gave Spike a withering look, which wasn’t as effective
as he hoped, because Spike just smirked at him and made a kissy face.
“You know what they say, Harris? There’s a very fine line
between love and hatred.”
Xander leaped off his chair as if it had been electrified,
mouth opening to shout, but he never got the chance. Anya kissed him, and
rather than shove her away, he gave in. Everyone raised their eyebrows,
including Spike, whose eyes were so big they almost fell out.
Anya let Xander go, and there was a moment of silence
as they all looked around. Spike was too smart to say something else, and
everyone else was rather stunned.
“That’s called incentive.” Anya said by way of explanation.
“Come on, Xander, let’s dance. That way they can talk about us.”
There were looks exchanged around the table, and all of
them were wide-eyed.
“Well.” Spike drawled. “I really don’t know who to feel
sorry for there.”
“Spike…” Willow said.
“Hey, not my fault.” Spike countered. “Can’t help it.
He doesn’t need to be talking to the Slayer like that.”
Buffy and Willow looked at him simultaneously, Willow
with dawning comprehension on her face, Buffy with an exasperated fondness.
Then Buffy realized that Willow was looking at her, so she turned, and
saw what was written on her friend’s face. She blushed, and if Willow hadn’t
been sure before, she was certain then.
“I, uh, need some air.” She mumbled, and got up and left.
Willow sipped at Xander’s beer, then turned and looked
at Spike. She looked at him for so long that he dropped his eyes, uncomfortable.
“Spike.”
“Willow.”
“If you hurt her, I will hurt you. I’ll come out of retirement
for it, if you know what I mean.”
“You should ask whether or not she’ll hurt me. “ He said
soberly. Then he got up and looked around for Buffy.
He found her on the catwalk, which was still covered with
New Year’s decorations. If it hadn’t been for his vampire’s eyes, he would
have missed her.
“What are you doing stuck up here?”
“She knows.”
“Yes, that she does. “ He lit a cigarette, hands shaking.
She looked so forlorn he couldn’t stand it. “Buff…”
“I wanted them to find out differently. I didn’t want
it to be this way.”
“Buffy, it’s just Willow. “
“I think Xander knows too.”
“How? It’s not as if he were Sensitivity Boy or something.”
He shrugged. “You were going to tell them eventually, weren’t you?”
“As soon as I figured it out myself. I haven’t figured
it out myself.”
“Have you really tried?” He blurted out before he could
stop himself.
“Yes, I have!” She was angry for a moment, then she was
sad all over again. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know
where I belong any more.”
She looked at him with such a wounded look on her face
that he couldn’t think of anything to do but fling his arms open, partly
in exasperation, partly in offer. What he didn’t expect her to do, however,
she actually did: She gave him another one of those sad looks, then stepped
into his arms and wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m so scared.” She whispered.
“Why?”
“Them.”
“What they’ll do?”
“Yes.”
“ I need them.”
“What about me?”
Buffy looked at him, gulping, and abruptly pulled away.
“I don’t want to, but I do.”
She stared down at the dance floor, braced against the
railing. Spike tried to find something good in that statement, and decided
to settle. He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, burying
his face in her neck, but she flinched.
“I’ll make you want me.” He whispered.
“Don’t.”
He pressed tighter against her, sliding his arms up her
stomach, cupping her breasts, feeling her nipples harden. She gulped.
“Stop that.”
“Why? How many times have we done this?” He whispered.
“You always come after me, or actually, most of the time, it’s before and
after, isn’t it? You come to me in the darkness, and you keep me there.
Here’s the darkness, then, luv. What if your friends really find out?”
He slipped one hand down, down, downward, under her dress---odd
how she’d started wearing dresses again, all of a sudden---and slipped
under her panties, to find her already wet.
“Guess this’ll be another time, won’t it.”
“Stop,”
She sounded seriously annoyed now and he really didn’t
know where he was going, except right to the edge. He stroked her cleft
repeatedly, till she was shuddering, and then she reached up with one hand
and pulled him roughly till she could kiss him.
Between kisses, he took her other hand and put it on his
crotch. She kissed him harder, and grabbed him so tightly he almost exploded
right there.
“What if they see us, Buffy? We’re right here, what if
they see us, what if they notice we’re both gone, what if they find us?
Would you stop? Could you stop? What if you’re coming, could you stop,
could you---“
He unzipped his pants, and shoved them down just enough
to free his cock, which bounced eagerly against her bottom. She shoved
back against him, breaking the kiss with a loud smacking noise.
“What? You sure? What’ll happen, Buffy, they’ll find us?
What if we have to stop? They’ll see, they’ll see….”
He pulled his hand from her wetness and she gasped, then
gasped even louder, as he pulled her hips back against him. His erection
slipped between her legs, and slipped back and forth against her slippery
cleft. She gasped again, and he muttered,
“Arch your back a bit, luv, let me inside, let me…”
She did exactly that, and he shoved inside her to the
hilt. She let out a groan that she wasn’t able to contain, and he matched
it with one of his own.
“They’re going to find us, Buffy, what are you going to
say? I’m good enough for the darkness, aren’t I?”
He rocked against her, barely moving, while Buffy
clutched the rail, and tried not to make any noise. Ridiculous. They had
never done it like this before, and it felt different, deeper, harder.
She felt his coat falling about her, and thought dimly that nobody could
tell anyway, because he was barely moving, and his hands were locked on
the railing outside of hers. And it didn’t last long; a few more hard thrusts,
and he was sagging against her, sliding out of her, and she realized he
had deliberately taken her for his own pleasure and left her hanging.
”That’s what you’ve been doing to him.“No. That’s exactly
it. He makes you forget. He makes you feel, and he loves you, how could
he turn away from you? He thinks this is as close as he’ll ever get to
you. “
She turned around, almost tripping over her panties, which
had wound up around one of her ankles. He was shamefacedly pulling his
pants up, tucking himself in, looking embarrassed, almost ashamed of himself,
and she found that she just could not stand for him to look like that.
She pulled her panties up, then off, because one side
had been ripped entirely away, and it made no sense to try and salvage
them. She couldn’t figure out how they got that way. He took a step toward
her, then hesitated, obviously expecting her to be angry, and instead was
totally surprised to find her pulling him to her by the lapels and kissing
him sweetly.
”She’s just making up to you,” Spike’s inner voice pointed
out. ”I don’t care. She’s kissing me. This is all I’ve got”.
”Um, Buffy?”
They tore apart, shocked, to look at Willow, standing
tentatively on the landing for the catwalk. Her face was almost as red
as her hair.
“Uh…Uh…Guys?” She cleared her throat. “Um, we’re leaving.
It’s boring here, so we’re taking off.”
”So were we”, thought Spike. “What did she see?”
Buffy swayed next to him, and he grabbed her arm.
“’s okay, Slayer.” I hope.
Spike slid one leg over the windowsill and then looked speculatively at the
ground two stories below. If he jumped, there was grass, he wouldn’t make any
noise, he’d get away clean, and all he’d have to do was deal with it tomorrow.
But…
He sighed, something he had gotten very used to doing, and ducked under the
windowsill. Shoving it up higher would just make more noise. He dropped his
coat on the floor, and pulled off his shoes, thinking the same thing. Then,
still thinking, hm, window’s only ten feet away, he went to the bathroom door
and peered inside.
For a moment, Buffy didn’t notice him. It wasn’t like she could see him in the
mirror or anything. Besides, singing into the shampoo bottle like Britney Spears
seemed to be taking up so much of her concentration that she wasn’t even aware
that her nipples kept bobbing up and down out of the suds, which seriously eroded
his concentration. Then she tossed her head a little too enthusiastically, and
noticed him. It didn’t appear that it was her nudity that she was concerned
with; it was the fact that she’d been caught performing the ouvre of Ms. Spears
that paralyzed her. Then she recovered, tossed her head----sending suds everywhere-----and
glared at him.
“Well, well,” he drawled. “Don’t you look all…minty fresh.”
He pulled his shirt off, then shucked his jeans off. She eyed him warily, but
he slid in behind her without a problem, and began scrubbing her sudsy hair,
while she glanced back at him suspiciously. Bit by bit, she relaxed, and she
leaned back against him, hands dropping to his thighs and sighing. He could
even see the tension seep out of her bit by bit as he scrunched her hair and
then rinsed it off with the sprayer.
He rather wondered what other uses the sprayer could be put to, but it seemed
like a really good idea to let that one go till later. Then he got to work on
her back, squeezing and rubbing, paying special attention to the tension knotted
up in her tight shoulders. She leaned forward to add more hot water to the mix
and let out some of the cooling shallows they lounged in. Then she leaned back
against him.
He settled back against the porcelain slope, and tried to ignore the coldness
of the surface beneath his back. After all, she was relaxing against him, and
bit by bit his own tension seeped away. The heat of the water soaked into his
bones, and so too, he feared, was the scent of frangipani that pervaded the
bathroom.
“Bet that’ll scare demons”, he thought idly. “If for no other reason than sheer
surprise”.
But she was all slippery and soft between his legs, and he felt no urge to talk
whatsoever. Her whole body was slippery and warm and wet and she was utterly
boneless against him. She subsided against him peacefully, almost asleep, and
although his instincts told him it was a bad idea, his common sense argued relentlessly
for it.
“Slayer.” He whispered. “You don’t want to fall asleep in a tub.”
“No.” She muttered. “I want to….”
Then she turned, nudging against him, her lips finding his, and she sighed against
him. What startled him was that she felt so bonelessly relaxed against him,
her lips gentle and soft on him. He wanted only to cup as much of her skin against
him as he could, and do that for several centuries. They kissed for years, turning,
twisting, mmmmm-ing against each other, he stroking her back without even being
even aware of it, and she….was holding his face in her hands, as if sheltering
it.
He recognized this as something she wasn’t even aware of, and one day, he wanted
to experience all of her secret little signals at once. There was the blush,
the tremble, the sigh, the mmmm, the suddenly held breath, and best of all,
the kitten gasp. She was utterly unaware of most of them, and he wanted to keep
it that way.
He clutched her hair in both hands, and tried to concentrate on her mouth. Maybe
it was the water; he felt so calm, so soothed…Maybe it was her. The thought
made his lips quirk up a bit and Buffy felt it and looked at him. She didn’t
say anything-verbally, that is, but she raised her eyebrows.
“Enjoying the novelty,” he explained. “You, me, and no fighting.”
Or anything else, he could have added, but it was rather nice. Buffy gave him
one her patented Buffy shrugs, and snuggled against him once more, her breasts
soft against him, her hands caressing his shoulders. Finally she just laid her
head on his shoulder, and almost but not quite yawned. “Long day at the office?”
Buffy actually thought about it. First, the nightmares, then working late---and
him. Then tiptoeing home, and well, not sleeping really well. Then more patrolling---and
him. Then the Magic Box, and the Bronze---and him. And now. And Willow.
“I have to talk to Willow.”
He hesitated for a long time. “What, exactly, did she see?”
“Us kissing.”
He figured pointing out the use of the word ‘us’ was not a good idea just yet.
“When are you going to talk to her?”
“Not now.” She said emphatically.
“Okay.”
She snuggled again, and he wondered if he’d been forgiven.
“Buff?”
“No talking.”
“No?”
“Well…”
She picked her head up, gave a little yawn, and looked at his face. She gave
him a sleepy little smile and then kissed him again. He could feel her smiling
while she did it. He traced stupid things on her back, wondering how tired she
was. She sighed mid-kiss, and he figured that was it; she was a rag doll now.
“C’mon, Buff, up you go.”
“Hm?”
“Water’s cold.”
With her grumbling and muttering in a not very effective way, he pulled her
to her feet, and grabbed a towel. Suds went everywhere, but his hands didn’t,
carefully avoiding all erogenous zones. She tried to return the favor, but she
was so tired, her coordination wasn’t the best. They tripped and stumbled over
each other, till he managed to wrap a big towel around her and hold her up that
way. He dumped her on the bed, and yanked the covers back, and she nuzzled into
them and closed her eyes. He went back to the bath to get his clothes, and returned
to the bed uncertainly with them in his hands. Buffy opened one eye.
“What are you doing?”
He cocked his head at her. She rubbed the bed next to her.
“C’mere.”
He didn’t need a second invitation, climbing in beside her. She didn’t open
her eyes, draping her self over his chest and shoulder, and stroking his chest
once, twice, three times…and then snoring. He glanced down. She was comatose.
“Poor Slayer”, he thought. “But lucky me.”
He dozed off himself.
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