Five Servings A Day

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Chapter 10: Kiss and Make It Better?
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Buffy stares at Spike, eyes darting from the bottle to his face down his body and back again in a loop that starts to make her wobble. She swallows before finally answering. “Yes. Thirsty.” She smacks herself in the forehead - in her mind - for her Me Tarzan You Jane reply. “I mean, yes, I’m thirsty, too.” She furrows her brow and looks back in the refrigerator. Spike hears drawers opening and closing inside as he continues to watch her scantily clad rear wiggle. “YES!” Buffy stands up straight, startling Spike into jerking his eyes to her face. Noticing her arm is held up triumphantly, he glances up to her hand to see two lemons. She smacks them down on the counter. “These will work just as well as limes, right?”

Spike’s smile is slow and delicious as he swaggers into the kitchen and sets the bottle down on the island next to the lemons. “Will work just fine, love. Do you have any shot glasses?”

Buffy squinches up her face in an exaggerated thinking posture, finger tapping on her chin. Suddenly, her face lights up. “No, but I have these!” She scurries over to a cabinet, her heels click clacking on the linoleum. Reaching up into the cabinet, hiking her skirt up to an indecent level, she pulls down two small juice glasses. Showing these to Spike, she raises her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Buffy bites her bottom lip. She decides she really likes how it sounds when Spike says ‘yes.’ Almost immediately, she thinks of other situations in which she would like to hear him saying - okay, yelling - yes. Spike cocks his head at her as the red flush races up into her cheeks with no warning. He tries to figure out what he said or did this time. And how he could do it again.

Remembering she was in the middle of something, Buffy stops thinking about Spike naked for just a few seconds. She points at the items in turn. “Okay. Tequila. Lemons. Glasses. We need...” She glances around. “Salt!” She grabs the salt shaker near the stove and adds it to the group.

Spike watches Buffy, thinking he is getting to see the Slayer in a way he never has before. Playful, sexy. He is almost nervous about how attracted he is to her. Almost. Mostly just turned on as hell.

He blinks when Buffy yanks her latest needed item from a drawer and brandishes it a bit too happily.

“Um, a big knife? We need that?” Spike takes one step back.

“For the lemons, silly.” Buffy smiles, wide and unabashed. Sticking her tongue out to one side in concentration, she corrals a lemon and starts to cut it before Spike can grab it away. “OWWWWW!”

Buffy drops the knife and sticks her finger directly into her mouth. Eyes wide, she hops up and down. Spike jumps forward quickly, the scent of blood sharp in his nose.

“Bloody hell, woman. You’re half-drunk, you shouldn’t be using a knife!” Spike decides his extreme concern is a fluke. Otherwise, it would indicate some deeper feeling for the Slayer besides lust and that is not admissible to his brain. Thankfully, the distressed Slayer is an excellent distraction from such thoughts. He reaches her, pushes the knife out of the way on the island and puts his hands on her arms, making her stop bouncing up and down. “There, now. Let me see. Do I need to take you to hospital or what?” Buffy, startled by the obvious worry in his voice, forgets the sharp pain for a second and withdraws her finger from her mouth at his gentle tugging. She shows it to him, eyes averted.

“Is it bad? Is my finger hanging off?” Buffy avoids looking as Spike takes her hand in his to study her wound.

“Well, it’s bleeding, pet. But it’s firmly attached.” Spike injects a little merriment in his voice, and feels what he can only describe as relief. It’s only a small slice in the tip of her finger.

“Oh thank god. I thought I - OH!” Buffy whips her head back towards Spike at the sensation shooting up her arm, electrifying her. The intensity of his eonlyonly serves to freeze her in place. “Wha - what are you doing?” His mouth has descended to her injured finger and as he brushes his lips against the tip again, she gasps. Not in pain, but in sudden and sharp arousal. Spi Spike’s gaze is unwavering. “Just a little kiss to make it better, eh, love?” There is mischief in his baby blues and Buffy feels her smile match his. “Is it better, Slayer?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is nearly a breath. “But, uh, maybe one more to make it all better. Safe side and all.”

Spike doesn’t answer, just lowers his mouth to her finger, the taste of her blood on his lips sweet like honey. Without really thinking it through, he slides her finger into his mouth, sucking lightly. The blood of a Slayer is too much for him to resist. Especially when it is this particular Slayer in front of him, chest rising and falling a bit too fast, skin a bit too warm and eyes open just a bit too wide.

Buffy feels herself drawn closer to him, mesmerized by the warm wet feel of his mouth on her finger. The intimacy of it brings her within inches and her other hand lifts to rest against his chest, palm flat. It’s both to steady herself and just to touch him. She really wants to touch him. Her fingertips dig into his shirt when she feels his tongue swirl around the finger before withdrawing it. The cool air strikes her wet skin, making her jump. The cut has stopped bleeding already.

“Better?” Spike licks his top lip and Buffy can do nothing but watch. She nods, lowering her finger and drawing on a reserve of will she thought empty to just step back from him. Neither one is willing or completely ready to cave into the sensations of their bodies. Yet.

Spike steps to the sof Bof Buffy and picks up the knife again. Wiping it clean with a kitchen towel, he starts slicing the lemons into wedges as Buffy recovers from the moment that just passed between them.

Her brain screeches from one reaction to another, settling on nonchalant. Yeah, she thinks she can pull that one off. Of course, she’s also fairly drunk, so her judgment is not top-notch. She leans casually on the kitchen island, watching Spike wield the large knife with ease.

“Aren’t you d?” ?”

“Me, pet? No. Maybe a little...touched, but not drunk. Not like you.” Spike grins, continuing to cut.

“Am not!” Buffy stands up straight, realizing that while leaning on the island she was flashing Spike a view straight down her dress. So much for nonchalant.

“Whatever you say, love. Shall we?”

She answers a bit too quickly. “Shall we what?”

Spike grabs the bottle and the glasses and gestures to the lemons and salt shaker, ignorinr qur question for the moment. “Grab the lemons and salt, will you, Buffy?” Buffy feels the ripple of excitement over her skin when he says her name. She won’t admit it, but just hearing him say it is nearly orgasmic. “Um, Buffy?”

“Right, but what shall we...what? Uh. What?” Spike chuckles, loving the way words tangle up in her mouth, the tequila sending them every which way.

“Thought we might tuck into this bottle somewhere more...comfortable.” Buffy stifles a reaction, her mind flashing visions of bodies in bed and all sorts of naughty activities. Spike gestures toward the living room with the bottle. “The couch?”

Buffy’s mind switches to entangled limbs on the couch with ease. Biting her lip and reining in her hormones, Buffy manages a smile.

“Sure, sounds good. I’ll just grab something for the lemon wedges, ‘kay?” Finally finding her false nonchalance, Buffy smiles and makes for the cabinet, mentally encouraging Spike to go into the other room. It works. He struts out of the room, all leather and bad and she watches him go over her shoulder. Buffy darts over to the freezer and whips it open, sticking her face into the freezing air. She breathes hard, trying to bring down her temperature. Digging around in the ice cube tray, she takes a cube and rubs it up the nape of her neck, around her neck and down her cleavage. The goosebumps come up immediately as the ice melts rapidly against her heated skin. When she feels like she will not tackle Spike on sight, she chucks the ice cube in the sink, closes the freezer and straightens herself out. Adjusting her dress and wiping off excess water with a dishtowel, Buffy takes a few deep breaths. Glancing around, she finds a small bowl and drops the wedges in it. Salt shaker and bowl in hand, she walks slowly and calmly toward the living room.

All her work cooling down goes right out the window when she sees him again. Buffy can remember just this morning when seeing him just made her want to punch him and now...well, it can’t all be the tequila. Some underlying attraction is just rising to the surface. The punching was maybe a good way to push that away, to push him away before her weakness was revealed. Whatever she felt about Spike before, the only thing she can feel right now is wanting. She wants him. No matter how wrong, no matter how stupid. No matter the consequences. Whether she contains that want or even tries to, is the $100,000 question of the evening.

Right now the answer is no. No containing, no resisting.

Spike has shed his duster and is sitting on the couch, stretched out. Booted feet on the coffee table, arms foldehindhind his neck, entire black-clad body on display, sleek and trim. Her mouth goes dry, taking the few seconds before he opens his eyes to take as much in as possiblHe sHe sits up when he sees her, gaze appreciative over the curves of her body. The way her dress clings to her in all the right places makes him wonder what all those right places would look like without the dress in the way. Buffy hesitates, nibbling her bottom lip. He smiles and she smiles back, heart pounding. Finally, decision clearly made, she strides in, and going right for the couch, sits next to him. Right next to him. So close Spike can feel her body’s warmth.

She sets down the bowl and the salt shaker next to the other items on the coffee table. Without meeting Spike’s eyes, she uncaps the bottle and pours two shots. She passes one to Spike, along with a lemon wedge. Taking one for herself, Buffy brings her hand up to her mouth to lick it. Just as her tongue starts to slide over her hot skin, her eyes flick to his. He is watching her, watching every movement she makes and her temperature kicks up to supernova. She shakes the salt on her hand and passes the shaker to Spike.

She stares at his tongue and then the salt sticking to his wet skin. Her designs on the vampire across from her start to coalesce in her mind. So much for restraint. Spike holds up his glass to Buffy, in a toast.

“Bottoms up, love.” He licks the salt and tips the glass into his mouth right as she answers him.

“Maybe later.” With a wicked grin, she takes her salt and throws her shot bac Spi Spike sputters and chokes. Eyes watering, he wipes his mouth and looks at her.

“What - what did you say?” Spike narrows his eyes a little as Buffy removes the lemon from her mouth and licks her lips. She pours another shot into his glass and into hers before answering.

“Hmm? About what?” Buffy licks her hand again, drawing Spike’s attention. He feels his cock stir, responding to her. She smirks at him, the recent shot of tequila making her tingle. Making her more brazen by the second. Shaking the salt on her own hand first, she passes it over.

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Spike quickly licks the side of his hand and shakes salt on it. Buffy holds up her glass, preparing to take the shot. Spike starts to bring his hand up to lick the salt off when he notices something. Buffy’s hand on his wrist, stopping him. His eyes dart to hers, confused. His whole body tenses when she leans forward, never breaking eye contact. The tip of her tongue grazes his skin and Spike nearly drops his glass. She flattens her tongue, taking in all the salt from his hand in one sweep. Sitting back, she tips the glass to him before taking the shot quickly. Buffy sucks the lemon wedge quickly and tosses it to the table.

“Thanks.” Her voice, dripping with sensuality sends waves of arousal through Spike. His hand is still frozen in the air where she licked him. He shakes his head, clearing it. His own tongue darts out, wrapping around his front teeth a gri grins at her. So, baby is ready to play.

Buffy feels the playing field start to level. They both want, they’re both willing to throw the rules out the window. Game on.

Spike grabs her wrist in his hand, pulling her hand to him. The salt is still there, waiting. Licking his lips, he leans closer, his tongue brushing her skin.

B gas gasps quietly, her nipples hardening. “Um, Spike...the salt is - oh! - on my hand...”

Spike lifts his mouth from her shoulder to answer. “Getting thepet.pet.” She sits straight up as his tongue drags down her arm, stopping every few inches to kiss her skin, soft and wet. She shivers, a fresh wave of goosebumps covering her arms and legs. Finally, after what seems like hours, he reaches her hand. With one very slow motion, he takes up the salt, curling his tongue into his mouth, eyes closed.

“You taste bloody fantastic, Slayer.” Buffy whimpers involuntarily, wanting his tongue to find other places to taste. And soon. He watches her breaths shorten, watching him closely as he finally takes the shot and sucks the lemon wedge.

Holding up the bottle, he raises his eyebrows. “More, love?”

Buffy’s hand shoots out with her glass in hand.

“Oh god, yes.” With a chuckle, Spike starts to pour.


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Author's Note: I know, it's been AGES since the last chapter on this fic. I've been writing some other fics that are not posted here. At least, not yet! Anyway, hope you enjoy! :) Tiana