Offers You Can't Refuse
Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves.
Author's Note: Picks up from where the last chapter ended.
Author's Second Note: SMUT WARNING. I mean it. Skim if you gotta.
Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used.
Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, ammuna, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, kzal, Cantanatova, and hbmckidd.
The team that never lets me down.
Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.
Day Fifteen, wee hours...
They walked to the house in silence, walked inside in silence, dripping.
"You need somethin' hot? Oh. Don't think we have tea or anything. I'll put it on the order form for the next time they send up groceries. God, even for vamps, not havin' a store handy is pretty damn primitive." Spike talked to fill the void.
"I don't need tea." Buffy smiled at him sadly, and went to the phone. No missed calls. Ringer on. Everyone was as safe as safe could be. "I'm gonna go get wash the lake off though. Gritty."
"Right then. See you in the afternoon." They'd sleep apart, and wake in midday, and wait to get out again. Little soldiers kept in their box, only able to come out and play at night.
"Okay." No. It's not okay. This is it? This is all? Trapped in some kind of limbo and the one person I'm with- I'm telling to get lost for half the time. Yeah, I hate him. But I can't afford to hate him right now.
She stopped moving, just standing there, looking half-drowned and eyes unblinking at him.
"And that would be?" Like I don't already know.
"Someday is a long way away tonight. That's all." Buffy whispered through chalky lips.
Some until someday, words that had struck their bedroom bargain. Some. As in once, and not all the way. But some can mean- not all the way, and can mean more than once, it's all in how you define the thing, isn't it? "Someday never seems to get closer." He gave her a regretful smile.
So he's not into it. I can't blame him. He said it was all physical and we're both heart types. So- so why's he moving like that? Slinking up to me?
"But we could. Get closer, that is."
Neck moved like a rusted spring controlled it, slowly riding up and down. "Closer."
It became a chant, a call and response. He took one deliberate step. "Closer."
Hesitant but graceful. They could reach out and hold hands now. I don't want just a hand. "Closer?" She asked.
"Together." He answered and closed the distance, giving up, giving in. Some.
His lips were warm on her neck, only because she was cold. Pressed her into the wooden wall adjoining the hall, wet to wet, plastered to each other.
She felt more like Dru than she had before. Cold, clammy. Dead skin. He realized he liked the heat, he liked the blood rushing through her. "Get your clothes off." He was yanking her water logged sweater down, over her shoulders.
"You'll ruin it!" She yelped as he stretched out the neckline, but let him, his abrupt commanding words sending a flame through her frozen body.
"It was already so stretched out, soggy." He argued, before mouths consumed each other again.
Wet clothes- all of them, left in a sodden heap in the hall, and they walked each back to the bedroom, not daring to look, unable to stop. His kisses were driving her back, until she'd gasp for air, lift her head, and pull his mouth back down, now pushing him.
"We- can't." Buffy realized the situation. Naked, hard Spike, naked, wet -in multiple ways- me. Heading to a bed. More desperate than we were before because, hey, now we actually have some experience to compare it to. Some good experience.
"I know." We almost did already. We can't, but bloody well feels like we can. Maybe the word we're lookin' for is "shouldn't".
So why didn't they stop moving?
His back to the closed bedroom door, hand beginning to twist the knob, and she backed away again. "Not all the way, Slayer." He soothed. Or bargained. Both.
His lips paused confusedly on her shoulder. "You wanna be called Sandy now?"
"No! Our skin-" she held up her fingers and rubbed them together, showing a little grit falling to the floor, "we're all sandy, we can't get into bed like that. We can't- you know. All dirty."
Apparently she'd never made love in fresh earth. Of course that might be a problem for humans. "Good point. Gotta rinse off."
He was driving again, back towards the bathroom. She understood, tightened up, he could see it and feel it, but she kept going with him, slipping inside.
"I'll be just a minute." She whispered.
Then he turned off the lights as she turned on the water.
"No rush. I'll stay with you. Closer that way." He moved with her, into the steam.
Buffy imagined the pattern of events would be similar to the last time, only sped up. The agonized kissing, the hands put to good use, the bantering, the understanding.
She was wrong.
He didn't know how it happened so much more quickly this time. He was sluicing her down, and she was returning the favor. Hands were just more free to indulge in wicked wants when they seemed to have an innocent purpose. Soon he was touching every inch of her, and she copied him. He knew hands couldn't cut it tonight. Had to be, have to be closer.
"Come to bed." It wasn't a question or a demand. Three words that fell out before he figured out what happened if she went with him.
Guess we'll find out.
She was flat on her back, reaching for covers, and he stopped her, preventing her from covering up. Simply staring down at her, blue eyes quietly blazing, and troubled at the same time. "What?"
"Nothing." How do I tell her I want something deeper when I tell myself I don't? Mouths can communicate in more than one way...
He laid beside her, and Buffy relaxed. The kisses resumed- and changed. She found his head slipping away from hers, down her collarbone, down her sternum, down her stomach. "What are you doing?" She cried in quiet alarm, mind and body giving a sudden squirm, because she had a pretty good idea of exactly what he was doing.
"No!" She sat up. "Not okay, not shh!"
Spike sat up. In the dark, they were head to head, on the diagonal. "I don't bite." He assured. "Not there." A faint hint of a smoky chuckle.
"I know you won't hurt me. But I don't want us to- hands okay, mouths not okay." She finally summed up. She waited for him to agree and let her set the boundaries, like he had the other night.
Only he didn't want to. This action was something he could do, and enjoy, and it was definitely more satisfying. He pushed. "Why not?"
"But you know I won't hurt you."
"You just don't want me?"
"I want you!" Oh crap. "It's for Angel. Okay? Stuff like that- it's for Angel and me, and-"
His voice was bleak, knife edged. "He's not comin' back, Luv." Nonetheless, she said no. He didn't need to get a kneecap to the nose. He laid back down beside her, but she remained sitting. Now what? "Slayer?"
I know that. I knew it before. He doesn't have to shove it in my face like that. "You're a jerk sometimes." She whispered thickly.
"What about Drusilla? If you're doing all this noble stuff to save her and help heal her, shouldn't this stuff be reserved for you and her?"
"She's not comin' back either." Spike said harshly.
Buffy recoiled like she'd been stung, only he was the one in pain. "Spike, I-"
"Do you know how many blokes she's had in her, or on her, since me?" He wiped angrily at his nose with his wrist. "Probably a dozen or two. Or five. She doesn't have the ability, Slayer, like we do, to say 'this is special, this is for him alone'. She was taught she was a puppet, a plaything, and that when the demon wants to play, however it wants to play, you let it! So no, she's not comin' back to me. That Dru- that part of her- is gonna be left behind when she's healed. She's gonna come back to me different in the ways that matter, and stay the same in the ways that matter, and she's just- you're a jerk sometimes too, Slayer." He sat up, needed a smoke and of course there weren't any handy. He needed to do something to stop the angry pinwheeling in his head, the whining whir of "How can you be sure she'll still be the same in the ways you want, different in the ways you want? Doesn't that sound like you're clutching at straws? Working for a pipe dream? You wanted her healed, do you want her changed to the point you think of her as a different woman? Are those the same things?"
He felt like his head might explode. He was about to fling his fist into the nearest wall, when a single fingertip on his forearm halted him.
"So- technically- are we both single now?" Buffy whispered, voice shaking a little.
Anger washed away as he suddenly had to confront that question. "I don't know. Hearts say no. Don't they?"
"Yeah... But if you're starting over with someone new- someday, and I'm- I'm never starting again," she couldn't keep the bitterness completely from her voice, "then I guess..." It was too dangerous to guess, the night was so confusing.
"Then I guess we're just two people who don't have any reason to hold back. For now."
This was it, this was better. Tangling, heavy kisses, whispers, laughs.
"You never?" He asked.
She disagreed. "It's special. Isn't it supposed to be- special? Do I sound stupid?"
"No." He said sincerely. She sounds wonderful. Dru never thought sex was special, any part of it. Oh she thought it was brilliant, fun, amazing, she could be loving during it, and she clearly loved it- but if it was "special" you wouldn't give it away to all and sundry in one of your moods, would you?
But she had a point, his sweet, dark flower. More enjoying, less thinking. "Don't think so much, Slayer."
"Rephrase. Don't think so much about whatever's drivin' us mad in our heads. Think about what I'm doing." He rose up, over her. Her hips went up as well, as though bound with an invisible wire to him. He smiled sinfully at her responsiveness. Propped on his wrists, his head lowered, and instead of a kiss, his tongue swiped her lips, parting them, letting lips touch only briefly before it was out with wicked flick across her jugular. Made her gasp, made her tense. Did the same on the opposite side, the white scar tissue on her neck, where someone had marked without restraint, a vampire intending to kill. He had that same mark. His tongue slowed, lingeringly traced it.
This is weird. This is like vampire incest. Tonguing my scar from Angel, who bit Drusilla, who bit Spike. Don't think about Angel. Don't think about Drusilla, either, but REALLY don't think about him. He never wins in this contest anyway. Think about what Spike's doing. Which is starting to feel creepy good.
He moved on, hands firmly skimming her sides, tongue now dancing over aching nipples, cold to the touch. His hands rested just above her hips as he let himself take her peak in his mouth. A shudder, a quiver. Something wrong. "Slayer?"
"Hm?" She replied immediately, a tight, nervous sound.
"Breathe." His hands suddenly fell and rose, on a buttery silky ocean of skin. He chuckled and burrowed back into her breast. "I love to feel you breathe."
She laughed shakily and let her hands, which had been clenched firmly under her stiff neck, fell to his shoulders, almost caressingly. "You're in for a treat, I do it twenty four seven."
"Oh, yeah Baby." He smirked up at her with a playfully lecherous wink.
Bad boy. Why do some women have a thing for them? Buffy smiled back, hesitantly. His face changed, lost the rough, ever ready leer, softened. He was up again, over her, resting on one elbow while his other arm reached for her, hand extending to cradle the back of her head. The "tough thug front" fell off all the sudden, just for a second.
Oh. That's why. To see the good guy underneath. Buffy had time for only a blinding sudden thought she'd only vaguely understand later. He was pulling her forward, this almost hopeful, quizzical look on his face as his eyes closed.
This is a real kiss. Oh my God. Everything else might be boredom, loneliness, and frustration, but- this is a real kiss.
His eyes blurred open. She'd gasped a little. Guilty as charged, caught red handed. The criminally sexual facade was about to be slammed back into place before she could call him on the rush of softness he'd felt.
Buffy swallowed, and licked her lips. What have I got to lose? Eyes met, danced away, and she lowered her lids as her face lost all tension.
Soft. Waiting. For me. With a rush of air into his dead lungs, he captured her mouth.
It's a game. Some. It's real. Some.
Some is better than none, at least for now.
She relaxed, he smiled, and in the dark he whispered, "Thanks, Slayer."
"Call me Buffy?"
Cautious little mewl, before her thighs unlocked around his hand. "I'll make you feel wonderful, Luv. Just trust me."
It was okay now. More okay anyway. But trust? Well this kind of trust, sure, maybe. "Don't make any sudden moves." She tried to joke.
"Nope. Nice and slow." One tanned thigh over one creamy shoulder, one resting to the side, knee bent a bit. His thumb stroked back her fine curls, and he inhaled, mouth watering. "Very slow." Savor this. Get to pluck a cherry, and hers it is. Tiny, pink cherry. His tongue lathed over her bud, lightly, showing all kinds of restraint. For now.
Holy electrical spasm. Buffy jumped, thighs twitched, one effectively batting him by the ear. "Sorry." She gasped.
"Oh no, Luv, it's okay. If I do this right, the goal is for you to beat me senseless with your delicious, trembly little thighs." He smirked up at her, but only for a second before the soft look came over him again. "Honestly. S'posed to be intense, s'posed to lose a little control, 'specially with us. Can't hurt each other much." Something that can't be said for the exes.
She nodded, and relaxed under him again, one hand on his head, one lying across her chest. Short, gentle licks, now all over the surface of her lips and folds and her clit as well. Making her undulate with want, but the spasms were small and controlled now. "Oh... Oh, that's really good."
"An' it's just the start." He adjusted her hips, picking her up and resettling her easily at the waist, so she was spread wider. Before she could give into her blushes and close herself up, he buried his head firmly between, and suckled.
The pulling sensation made her yip softly in pleasure, and her hand found its way almost guiltily across her breast, cupping it, squeezing, something to hold onto. Only that felt pretty good too. I'm turning into such a slut. "Whatever that is- do more!" She cried suddenly as his lips wrapped and tugged gently on her nub. Yep. Proof of slutdom.
"More, hm? More of this?" He bit down lightly with his lips and worried it in a circle. Her leg buffeted him, and he purred with self-congratulation. "How 'bout this?" A finger slid into her wet slit and he lapped the now swollen treat.
"Oh God!" Buffy's shoulders came up and she had a small, but richter measurable orgasm, only lasting a second, like an electric shock had taken over. "Wow. That was awesome."
"Not done." He refused to let her move away, arm stubbornly across her waist.
He looked up sharply, something wrong in her tone. "What?"
"Nothing. That just felt... really, really good."
"So why're you givin' me that look?"
"Guilt?" She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Hmmm, guilt is a bad thing in bed." He licked her softly, speaking between licks. "Trust me. I come from the most sexually repressed era in recent history, in one of the starchiest places." Why I love the wild side so bloody much. "Something I learned- you can never have too much pleasure." Faces, voices, Dru's rants and tears, followed behind his words, ghosts that always reminded him, made him a different man, a better man than what his grandsire had been. "Never too much- unless you hurt someone to get it."
"You're not hurtin' me. Am I hurtin' you?"
"Only if it's as opposite as it can be day." She laughed and stroked a fingertip across his forehead as he looked out from his soaking nest.
"Then enjoy the ride an' toss the guilt out the window. We'll have enough later." He reminded her ruefully.
"True." She settled back. "Go for it."
"That's my girl."
Sounds so wrong. His tongue cleaved her folds, and slid luxuriously inside. But I really like the sound of it all the same.
See, this was how it should go, in his mind. The girl should never stop moaning in pleasure, and the more you made 'em babble, the better, and she should feel totally focused on you, no sudden bloody twists where she went off cravin' the wrong man.
"Spike, Spike, Sp-i- ike!" A segmented little sob as his tongue finished its maniacal probing inside her honey pot.
His urge was to slide up her, shove himself in hard, pump and pump, and not stop until he'd emptied out months of pointless yearning in her.
But he couldn't do that. For one thing, she was looking glazed and wild eyed, and he wasn't sure she wanted to be taken just now. Or, for that matter, that you could 'take' something from her- and if he'd want to. "Easy, Luv. I've got you." He petted her arm and rolled off, onto his side, pulling her in.
"Thanks." She laughed breathlessly. "Thanks doesn't cut it, but... wow. Thanks."
"Hrm. No worries." He licked his lips longingly. "Maybe we could... do it again sometime?"
"Yes." Why not? As long as we're here... "While we're together." Not together! Physically, not couple-y. "I mean, here, together."
"I get it, Precious. Don't backpedal so fast, your legs have gone all rubbery, remember?" He teasingly squeezed her thigh. She laughed against his skin, then smiled up at him. Time slowed a bit, and the teasing left. She really is something. Beautiful, lethal, little bit crazy, but mostly sane. Thinks with her heart, too... I like that. He took another kiss, a real kiss. Took was the wrong word, because she gave it back just as much. Exchanged was the right word.
"Hm." Coughed as he rolled on top of her, kissing gently across her neck. "If you want...?" His heart stabbed. Body wanted, brain still felt a deep sense of loss as he offered something that he'd sworn was just for love. And he would never be in love with this girl, as much as he might grow to like her.
Buffy's insides rebelled on multiple levels. She did want. Very much want. But not with him, and not now. If anything else touched her recently overstimulated parts, she thought she would combust. "M-Maybe later?" She offered.
"Sure." They exchanged relieved smiles. He rolled off, and lay on his back, proud erection standing tall and painfully full. "Although if you could get him down for the night- I'd appreciate it." He said casually.
"I think I can handle that." Buffy smiled briefly, and scooted closer, letting her hand timidly close over him, then firmly press, pump, pull, a slide. A deeply pleasurable one, tight fitting and powerful as she got comfortable with embracing him.
"Easy, wait." Spike cautioned after a few minutes, and licked his fingers and swiped them around his sheath quickly, rapidly getting under her fingers.
"Wait why? What was that?"
"Wet. Do it too dry and it tugs in the not so fun way." He explained. "Spit works in the short term."
"People spit on- ew. That's mean!" Buffy said indignantly.
"Not spit on - although- no, never mind. Not 'spit on', Slayer. 'Use saliva'. Is that more acceptable?"
"Yes." She sniffed in haughtily.
"Naturally slippery and wet, when you can't have what nature intended. Why mouths feel so good." He explained.
"Agreed." Her pussy throbbed happily in memory.
Pushing, pulling, leaning close to him, his hands caressing her, moaning softly. Hie pre-cum kept him lubed enough now, and she seemed to be taking extra care. Watching him thoughtfully.
"I've seen videos." Buffy suddenly broke the quiet of the room, the silence filled only by soft little murmurs and the rustle of skin and sheets.
"Not a lot, just like-flashes of things I really didn't want to see."
"Oh. Videos." He snorted. "Know why it looks so ugly?"
"Well- wait a minute, I thought guys liked that?"
"Oh sure, we love to look at the pretties. Right until it's our pretty we catch bein' fucked in our own bed. Then you get an eye opener. So- as I was sayin', know why it looks so ugly?" He repeated with deep bitterness in his voice.
"Because what you see is some man takin' what belongs to someone else, and some woman doin' the same. Love's bitch types like you an' me see that and all we can think about is that fact that it's empty. Means nothin'."
Buffy paused. "I meant it looked painful and messy. Like- girls with their heads bent funny and people falling off beds."
"Oh." Well, haven't I just made a priceless fool of myself?
"This- doesn't have love in it." Buffy reminded him.
"No- but there's like in it. Comfort. Pleasure. It means something." He said stiffly.
"You're right. It does." Buffy agreed quietly.
"Not that you- fuck, Slayer. You talk too much! An' yes, so do I."
Bodies parted. Sort of. She leaned over him, he purposely looked elsewhere. "I was going to say- I've seen a little bit of what it looks like- so I'm not an expert."
"Oh." Ahhh. Got it. "I promise not to make you wrench your neck about, if that's what you're worried about." He offered, still looking nonchalantly away.
I'm worried about doing this at all, with you. But, he doesn't need to know that. He already knows that. "If we fall off the bed- you are so getting your ass kicked."
"I'll take the risk." He tugged her up by the wrist. "But not just now- you have to want to do that for someone. Wanna please them, taste them, get lost in them. We can do other things for now. I'll wait."
He won't be waiting long.
"That was fairly quick."
"Diplomatic immunity cards come in handy." Wesley smiled stiffly as they boarded the plane. Robson and Abby were pretending to ignore them as they took seats several rows back.
"I'm sorry about embroiling your cousin in all this." Giles muttered.
"Oh, no embroilment. It really was Vera's wedding this weekend. I simply hadn't planned to attend. My father will be there."
"You don't understand my power. Or what I require."
"I don't care what you require, you can have it. Simply find the girl. You and all your -" he looked disdainfully around at the chief figure and several less impressive demons, "furies, I'll call them, find her, and kill her. If you can't kill her, mark her, make her traceable. I no longer care if you preserve the body, you can burn it, eat it, take it back to your realm . Only she needs to die and another Slayer must rise from her line, the first line, the true line. And if you ever try to come back to visit me after this operation has been performed, the new slayer- the one who will be as powerful as Summers but who will follow my every command- will hunt you." Travers stared at the creature before him. "Now. Do you understand?"
"Give me the sample."
"Finally. A sensible demon. Payment upon delivery." He closed the black book and wiped his blood stained hand on a neatly folded silk handkerchief. He passed a vial to the blue-black talons in front of him. "It was taken in January. It's not 'heart blood' as you typically claim to use, but it is her blood. I had it extracted before her test- proof she really had been given the amount of drugs needed to weaken her, before her- erm-exam."
"It's not fresh." The demon regarded it, rusty brown at the edges, a vial now half full.
"You're past your sell by date as well." Travers said with an edge in his voice as he looked at the demon with its pulpy, cracking skin. "I believe she is cloaked, and possesses some magical protection. She has out maneuvered a 'seeker', searching for her being. Are you certain you can find her by blood, even with such things in place?"
Orange glowing eyes sparked angrily. "Do not question our ability. How dare you call forth myself and my spawn, the most feared and-"
"Just explain, please." Travers fiddled with a letter opener and ignored the towering form as it frothed in anger.
"Blood doesn't need to be in the body for me to find it. You say she's with a vampire? So much the better. They have an unhealthy lust for the humans' scarlet, as much as we do, only they are impure, half-human."
"I don't want him, only the girl."
"If she is with a vampire, and she's a slayer, there will be blood flowing. Either fighting or feeding, vampires cannot resist drinking, and slayers cannot resist spilling. I can find her trail if she's so much as a scratched a scab in the past year. "
"I'll give you two days to pick up her scent, a week for delivery. If you haven't found her by then-" Travers held up a small glass orb wherein fire and smoke tumbled. "I smash this. Trap you between realms."
Denied brimstone or flesh. True hell, indeed. "We'll find her."
It had been one of those awkward days, but not unpleasant. They slept until late afternoon the day before, woke up, bathed, ate, watched PBS and Spanish soaps, and whittled stakes. In short, they acted like nothing happened, despite the fact that they woke up naked in the same bed. They watched the ten o'clock movie, and then Spike left to track down his dinner.
When he came back, she had the bedroom door left open for him, bedroom light turned on. He smiled to himself, slid off his coat, locked the door and checked the windows before going down the hall.
Buffy was painting her toenails, and she looked up with the same sort of reluctantly pleased smile he was giving her.
"Mum and your backup singers?"
She capped the bottle and stuck her toes out. "Giles is over the ocean or up in the air." Buffy kept her voice bright with an effort. "Xander and Willow think they found some magical thingy I can make, if they talk me through it, to protect me from all sorts of evil creatures hunting me. Well, it'll at least ward them off a little if they get too close."
"That's a relief. If I have do deal with another vamp in fancy dress..."
"Not exactly a relief. It works on vampires. Now I have to figure out a way to tell them to find something, or my 'bodyguard' gets driven off, too."
"Yep. Said the phone was going crazy with cracklies." She shifted in bed, and watched him hesitate by it, coming closer. "You? Good hunting?"
"I saw some of those bloody loud wolves. Think they scared off all the big game, an' I didn't feel liked chasin' rabbits. Hardly a swallow. It's okay. I can survive a couple days on empty if I have to. Done it before."
She hated that thought. Which was weird. She hated that he was hunting animals, beautiful, happy, furry animals. But she hated the thought of him going hungry because of her even more. "Can't you go where the wolves aren't?" She suggested worriedly.
"Not without leaving you on your own for hours, an' I'd be outta screamin' range. Not like here, where the food's in the bloody front yard." He chuckled, gesturing towards the surrounding woods.
"We could drive to the nearest butcher?"
"Hour or two away."
"We have gas."
"You're supposed to stay low, Luv."
"I know." Pause. "I don't want to worry about you."
"You can't turn off the way you feel about somebody."
Switch. Flipped. Locked into on, and now he knew he couldn't get it back off. "I worry about you too." Her cheeks turned a darker shade, and she shrugged.
"I have my pb and j. I'm good."
"Is that all you eat?"
"Milk and Rice Crispies and Froot Loops, too." She smiled.
He thought. He swallowed the thought. Then it came out anyway. "Maybe we could do a run to the store. The proper one, in the vast 'metropolis', what with the gas station, and three or four shops." Her face lit up. "Quick trip. Only this once!" He tried to quell the sudden shine in her eyes. "The rest of the time we hide out, we order the groceries at the ranger station, let the little rangers do their jobs."
"Fine, once, whatever! Civilization! I'll get my shoes!" Buffy flew off the bed.
"Tomorrow, Slayer, tomorrow. Well- technically later today. It's after one, Luv."
"Oh. Yeah." She realized sheepishly. She sat down. He sat beside her. "Are you- gonna be okay?"
Now see, that sort of sweetness was nauseating when directed at all her little pals and her causes and that broody, silent ape. But aimed at him? He quite liked it. "I'll eat somethin' out of the kitchen if I get peckish. It's not a need yet. It's just good not to let the tank get too low, yeah?"
"Yeah. I guess." She fanned her nails and tapped them, then sighed.
"You really get yourself tied up in knots over little things, don't you?"
"Happens." She shrugged.
" 'Preciate it."
Silence. He scratched his fingers through his hair, and uncomfortably across his neck. "Slayer-"
"What?" She asked, far too quickly.
"I was gonna say we should get our minds off it. Y'know. Stop worryin'. For a night." Just one. Well, just another one. Just a little more.
"That sounds like a good idea." Warm fingers brushed under cool ones, hands landing on the same spot of blanket. They jumped.
How can we be all over each other, how can we - urghhh- act like we like each other sometimes- then a little hand touch makes us jump like startled cats? Buffy flinched as their hands hastily parted.
"I'll get the lights." He did, neatly, calmly, belying the twitchiness he felt. What the hell'd she do to me, make me act like that? Nothin' major in this.
He sat back down, and her hand clumsily clasped him at center chest. His hands flowed easily to her back, lifted up her shirt. They turned in, to each other. Foreheads bumped, soft laughter, then his hand fell to the back of her neck. Another jump.
Her lips turned up and his fell down, soft, and hungry, and above all- real. Honest. She gasped. Not supposed to feel like that.
"It's just cold in here." She lied.
"I'll get the other blanket off the couch." He started to pull back.
She caught his wrist. "No... we'll just get under the covers."
"Right." He kissed her again, chest rising and falling out of an effort to control himself. When he kissed her sometimes, it was all part of the night's activities. Other times it felt different. He felt different. Didn't do to dwell on it, but knew he wanted more of it, and that it scared him shitless all the same.
She kissed him as they toppled back, side to side, lips parting and joining slowly. Intimate.
Oh. That's why we jump, why our whole bodies flex.
It's what fighters do- always try to catch ourselves before we fall...
Feels different this time. Buffy paid attention to him that night, really watched him, more than she'd ever watched him before. Paid attention to what effect her touches, even the smallest ones, had on him. This guy, this vampire, all hardness, and evil, and cockiness- acted so hungry for every inch of her skin, every tiny little caress.
Starved. Not just because he couldn't hunt, because he'd lost the one thing he'd been craving for years. Someone's love.
And I can never love someone like that.
But...I do want more. Give him more. Her heart thudded. She leaned above him, and kissed from his jawline, his throat, each hard, smooth tier of muscle in his chest.
His skin fluttered under her touch, abdominals heaving in. "Buffy?"
"Shhh. Just- tell me if I'm screwing up and don't crack my neck or something. And just- hold still a minute." She pulled her hair back and let it hang over one shoulder, tilting her head to go with it. Looking up at him- to find him watching her with anticipation and disbelief on his face. "Can you not look at me?" Buffy asked with a half-joking voice.
"Nope. Not gonna happen." He answered. His tone had none of its usual bluster, more dazed, maybe a little freaked. She could relate to that perfectly.
"But you know how this is supposed to work and I don't, and I can't do this if you watch me!" She protested, lying her head on his stomach and giving him pleading puppy dog eyes.
Didn't work. "Know you've never done it. Otherwise you'd know no matter what you do, mistakes you make- no man can take his eyes off his girl right now." A hand went loosely to tangle in her pooling blonde hair. "Beautiful."
She wasn't his girl. Maybe for the night though, she could overlook that. You can make yourself believe anything you want if you try hard enough. He called me beautiful. "Okay." Buffy agreed softly. She scooted back up, and instead of avoiding his eyes, made sure they met, over top of this big, jutting thing in the middle of them.
Wanna please them, taste them, get lost in them. His words from the other night rattled around her head as she inhaled and framed her lips to go around him. She hesitated over him. I do want to please and taste and all that stuff. It's not supposed to be something I do just to get it done with. Damn, this would be so much easier if I loved him.
"Don't have to, Luv."
"Huh?" Mind reader! Sneaky, snarky mind reader!
"You don't have to. I wasn't pushin' for this."
"No, I know. I get it. I just want to. Really." She sighed. Her warm breath on the tip of his length made him twitch. "Oh my God. It moves on its own? I thought these things were hip controlled."
He laughed, bashfully. Neither of them could believe it, and his brash side almost reasserted itself. "For the most part. But when we're real happy- he'll give you the nod."
"Impressive." She licked her lips. "Let's see how happy we can make you."
Spike watched her lips close and press lightly to his pale skin. A chaste little kiss- on a completely unchaste area. He closed his eyes and sighed. We really are quite the blend of darkness and light, her an' me. After years of deliberately avoiding anything light at all costs, he was finding he enjoyed this little scrap of secondhand sun."Lovely..."
"Good." Another kiss. Another. A flicker of tongue. Ooh, new taste. But I like it. Don't know why, just do. The main thing is- he likes it. She let her tongue deliberately pull across his skin, and his member swished hard. Her eyes stopped looking down, and started looking up, watching the effect she had on him.
So hot, so wet, so long since this had happened for him... His hips tucked and rolled, shoulders and spine seemed unable to relax, waiting- "Ohh, yes, bloody fuck, yes!" Her lips wrapped around and gently sucked him in. Not much, maybe an inch or two, but it was enough. Inside someone again. Glorious.
I make the Slayer of Slayers- she realized she hadn't thought of like that in days- I make Spike weak and wobbly and moan-y.
She wasn't a natural at it, she was clumsy but determined. He, surprise of surprises, wasn't the type she'd thought, the type to yank her hair and demand. Patient, grateful, vocal. She blushed as she easily slid her mouth up and down him now, five or six inches easily in and out, sucking gently on the top and bottom of each stroke.
Very, very vocal.
"Bloody hell, Buffy, holy sweet fuck, oh, fuck!"
"Shh." She finally had to giggle at him. "I'm not going to stop if you stop cheering me on."
"Can't help it." He laughed back, and stroked her hair. Went lower, massaged her neck. "Neck's all good?"
"Slayer bendy." She winked, and resumed.
Ten minutes later...
Restless hips and strained sounding "breathing", little stifled grunts as he tried to keep his cock from leaping and forcing itself down the back of her throat. Not even down her throat, just a little more leverage so he could move with her... "Unnh."
Buffy watched his face contort and then relax, watched his fists clench. "Am I hurting you now?" She pulled off with a wet plop, and worried eyes.
"No, no! The opposite. Havin' a hard time not movin' with you." He laughed and his hand replaced her mouth for a moment so he didn't lose the momentum of his pleasure.
"You can move with me." She blushed. "I totally beat you up with my knees when you- you know. You can move."
He paused before replying. "Can I try something?"
This could be stupid of me. "Sure, I'll try whatever."
"You make any jokes about this-" He sat on the edge of the bed, she knelt beside it.
"If you want me on my knees, worshippin' your pussy, just say so." He winked and licked his lips hungrily.
Worshipping me. I don't want that. But I like the offer. "No, I like the other way fine." She adjusted her head, and sank her soft, warm mouth with a seeking tongue back around him. He rocked his hips forward, and they fought. No, danced. It was gentle, like a glide, his push, her embrace, and vice versa.
Two minutes later...
He'd fallen to her. Flat on his back, hips hanging off, but still working with her mouth. She held onto his jagged hipbones, and his hands locked around hers. He was emitting and ever louder stream of grunts and huffs. Something sweet and salty was leaking into her mouth, had been for the last minute straight. "Almost!" His hoarse shout cemented something for her.
I'm on my knees. But I have all the power. Invigorated, she finally understood what he'd said, the last part... "You lose yourself in them."
Find yourself there, too.
No holding back.
Her hands wormed their way to twine with his, fingers laced and then locked down, sucking and swallowing against the stiffness in her mouth as her head bobbed, eyes closed, then open, searching his out.
He lifted his head to look down across his splayed torso, see where his shy "virgin" had gone, and which succubus replaced her.
Blue eyes met green, and of course, even in the dark, they could see, him more so than her. Emerald eyes. On fire. She could scorch him with that much intensity. She tightened her hands suddenly and dropped her lips almost to his base, never unleashing his gaze.
You lose yourself in them. Hips pumped up, roars broke out, and he sat up, pulling himself free as he released a sporadic torrent across her breasts.
Buffy blinked as he let go. She ought to feel freaked out, watching this supine form suddenly turn into a roaring, tearing lion, his fingers bruising hers, wet cock pumping out across her bare skin. She didn't though. She felt... oddly excited. And relieved. And proud. A whole cocktail of emotions that left her sitting on her knees, stunned, mouth still half open.
Spike tried tugging her up to the bed, but his body defied him. Limp muscles, except the one still dripping pearls onto his inner thigh. Path of least resistance then, he thought, and slid off the bed to join her on the floor, knee to knee.
"Did I- are you okay?" She gasped as he landed beside her.
He didn't answer verbally. Kissed her mouth. Then her throat. Pressed her back over one slightly shaking arm as his head bent. "What are- oh."
His tongue and lips swiped and sucked soundlessly. Cleaning himself off of her.
Her insides twisted, a deep cramp at the edge of her womb. She lifted one breast tentatively and he took it eagerly into his mouth. "Felt so good..." He finally whispered between gobbling kisses.
"It does." She whimpered as they fell back onto the hard rough wooden floor. He finished cleaning her small, ripe bust of all the dots and long streams of his release. She moaned softly, feeling his weight against her. Semi hardness rubbed between her thighs. Her hips climbed up to meet his.
"So good, Baby."
Done cleaning, but still enjoying her, he stayed on top, mauling her breasts with blunt teeth. "You're welcome. Believe me." He chuckled, taking a nipple and squeezing it gently 'til she squeaked. "The things you can do, Slayer..."
"Good partner." She shared credit, and felt him hardening again, now against her wetness. The ache inside turned into a steady throb.
"You need to be taken care of." He rolled his shoulders as his muscles recovered.
"I'm good." She gasped.
"You're bloody amazing, but you still sound like you need something." He worked his hand down, two fingers gently manipulating her petals, then clit. She arched off the floor, letting him get his arm underneath. "Back to bed."
He scooted her onto it, bum falling off the edge, cradled in his palms. He slung himself up, shoulders under knees as if he were slipping on a familiar he'd always worn. "My turn for worshipping, I think."
"I don't want to be worshipped." She protested, hands clenching to stop from greedily fingering her whining body.
"Not even a little lip service?" He smirked and ran his tongue across her, stem to stern, and then let it dance inside.
"Ohhh. Oh God, never mind, worship away, lips and service and anything you want."
"Anything I want? Dangerous offer, Slayer."
"Well...everything around here is dangerous. For both of us." Buffy whispered, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at him as he casually leaned a chin against her curls.
"You sure?" Am I? No...
"No, but I'm not sure about- about not doing it." She struggled to explain.
"Same. But I'm sure about this." He kissed her lightly on her pouting puss. "I skipped dinner, an' you look good enough to eat."
She giggled and laid back, suddenly very comfortable with devouring, and being devoured.
To be continued...