Shot in the Dark

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Chapter 21: Waking
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Buffy wakes in the pitch black crypt. A glance towards the windows at the far end of the crypt tells her it is the early hours of the morning, maybe 3 or 4. She feels Spike’s arms, still firm but not tight around her, as he is slack with sleep. She knows she can wake him with the slightest movement if she’s not careful. Buffy lies still, letting her mind wander down her body. And his. Her legs are tangled with his, loosely. She is sore below the waist from the force of their encounter, but it’s a solid ache, comforting in a way. Much like when she’s had a good night of slaying and her body tells her it has been working, that s als alive. The weight on her waist is one of his hands, lightly curled around her there. Their skin is in constant contact from waist up. Buffy feels the hard lines of his muscular chest under her cheek, lets her mind wander down her arm to the hand that rests just above his unbeating heart. She is lying halfway on him, his other arm under and around her, resting on her back. Buffy is cocooned in his arms and she has not felt this safe in years. She barely feels the small burning ache from the bite mark on her neck. A pocket of warmth in her belly spreads to suffuse every limb in a combination of contentment...and...desire? Her eyes widen a bit as she feels her body temperature rise. Buffy wants him again. Feeling the graceful lines of his body pressed against her, countering her curves, containing her tiny form, is wakening her. He has taken on her warmth in this snug bed of theirs under several soft blankets. The outside world is muffled and unimportant.

Buffy’s mind races in time with her pulse. She imagines waking him, feeling his hands move on her again and has to bite back a groan. This is not the spell. The stupid thing is over and she feels no different. The possible explanation for her craving makes her heart flutter, her breath catch in her throat.

Love. No, no. Lust. It’s lust. I mean, she can’t help how hot he is... Buffy’s parade of denial is stopped suddenly by her memory of last night. She did not have to let him bite her. Not last night, not that time in the kitchen. If it was just sex, why would she offer him something so significant, so meaningful? It would seem that her willingness and her feeling no real pain allowed him to bite her, even with the chip. So, couldn’t he have killed her? She grows cold at the notion. He wouldn’t. She knows it as surely as she knows the sun will rise in a few hours. When did she begin to get so secure in what Spike would do? The tiny voice in the back of her head whispers, ‘Since you started falling for him.’

Her mouth goes dry. Another vampire? Falling for another vampire was really not at the top of her To Do list. But here she was, curled up in his arms and wishing she could stay this way.

Buffy feels the panic rising in her throat, wondering what to do with this feeling in her gut. Again, the tiny voice, growing louder and more insistent, has a suggestion. Her body betrays her racing thoughts and thinks it is a great idea. Shifting as if in her sleep, Buffy slides slightly down his body, slipping lower. As she predicted, he adjusts to her new position in his sleep, pulling her against him again. Her small hand moves in slow motion down his chest, desperate not to wake him. The smirk tugs at her mouth. Not yet, at least. All thoughts of self-control or worry have flown out of her head. Presented with his body, she can’t deal with consequences, she can just deal with him. Finding her target, she begins to rub his cock lightly. It is warm in her hand, protected from the cool night air by the blankets. His body twitches at her touch and she freezes for a second. A low moan comes from him, but he does not wake. As she begins to stroke him slightly more quickly, he begins to harden. His hands flex convulsively around her. She hopes she is not making a big mistake. If he doesn’t want her anymore, this could get unpleasant in a hurry.

Spike tosses in his mind, pulled from dreams to an unnervingly real sensation coursing through his body. In his dream, he had the Slayer in his arms, warm and willing. His own little heat source, gazing at him with those gentle green eyes. Flashes of the night before fill his brain and he has to work to identify them as reality instead of fantasy. He wonders why he spent so much time trying to kill her when this is so much better. His undead heart aches at the vision of her gazing into his eyes. He desperately wants to hold her, to have her let him hold her. He can barely muster up an argument against it. Sod the bloody spell. Sod the whole bloody world. This is real. And he is holding her. Spell’s over and he still wants her. Wants her to let him be hers, and for her to be his. He tightens his grip around her warm body, wishing fervently to whoever listens to vampires that she feels the same. Swimming slowly towards consciousness, sluggish from the recent exertion, Spike identifies the sensation he felt earlier. She is...she can’t be. But she is. He doesn’t react outwardly, but waits to see what will happen next. She begins to slide further out of his grasp and he resists the urge to clutch her back to him. The notion of not reacting is quickly thrown out of the window as her hand is replaced by her wet, warm mouth, encircling him suddenly. His entire body stiffens, he gasps and digs his hands into the blankets. Once again, he swears he can hear her smile.

Nice plan, Buffy thinks, reminding herself to listen to the little voice more often. His cock is slick and silken in her mouth, hardening further as she feels him flail above her. A smile touches her mouth as she slides down his erection, letting her tongue dance around and up again. He’s definitely awake now. After a few more strokes, she feels two very strong hands on her shoulders, digging in. In the next second, she is forcibly pulled from his cock and yanked up his firm chest. Unerring in the dark, Spike takes her lips with his, his mouth attacking hers with newly wakened ferocity, his tongue exploring her mouth thoroughly before letting her go. Gasping, she lies on top of him, hands on his chest, struggling for balance, the evidence of his arousal and her handiwork pressing into her belly.

Still short of breath, she whispers onto his face. “Did I wake you?” He can just see her widen her eyes, feigning innocence.

“Surely bloody did.” He chuckles, low and sensuous. The sound always sets off a strange chain reaction in Buffy. A sudden flush of warmth over her skin, a pulse of arousal between her legs.

“Very sorry, Spike. My bad.”

“Oh, I’ll show you bad.” His voice drops, his menace as real as her innocence from moments before. Their playing hides a bit of their emotion, but both know the significance of this encounter. Buried beneath their teasing words is an undercurrent of electricity. Both know the effects of the spell are gone. That having these desires now proves something else. That acting on these desires now proves even more...

He runs his hands down her body, drawing out the moment. Despite the misgivings that should be screaming through his mind, he does not waver. The world has shifted into a place of clarity and she is clearly in that world with him.

Buffy looks down at him, wishing she could see his eyes. “Spike?”

“Yes, luv?” His voice shakes, surprising him. The emotions held in check are bucking for their freedom.

“I want to see you.”

“Thought you didn’t need to, pet?” He smiles, remembering her comments of a few hours ago.

“I don’t. I said I want to.” Her voice is calm, serene. He swallows, all of a sudden wanting to see her , too.

“Alright, luv. Got some candles right here somewhere.” Buffy shifts off him and listens to his movements as he rolls over on his stomach and reaches into the darkness by their makeshift bed. Buffy hears the familiar clink of his lighter opening. The tiny flame dances, casting light up onto his face. He moves the candle on the floor a bit closer. Once the wick catches, he stato mto move the lighter towards another candle. She moves behind him silently, her tiny hands sliding up his back. The warmth, the sensation of her delicate fingers nearly makes him drop the lighter. Hand shaking just a bit, Spike fumbles for the lighter again, swallowing hard. After two attempts he gets it to work, only to feel something altogether disconcerting. Buffy’s mouth. On his back. Wet, hot little kisses dancing up his spine. A sudden clank and total darkness returns.

The weak flame from the first candle casts little light, but does create a pocket of orange glow, softening the darkness. He drops the lighter again as she bares her teeth, nipping the skin of his back. One candle will have to be enough.

“Oh God, Buffy...” Her mouth continues to move up, tracing the strong columns of his back, hands racing over the skin, re-learning it with her fingertips. He wonders if she truly knows how incredible she is. How wildly she affects him. He didn’t know she had this side, so sensual, gentle, rough and intense. The need to see her is too intense for. H. He quickly flips over, facing her. Buffy gasps at his sudden movement, but is quickly quiet again, looking up his chest until she finds his face in the dimness. His eyes are black in this light, but they still dive into her, fathomless and intense. She lets her hands find their path up his chest, then slowly drags them back down, letting the fingernails graze him, catching his nipples on her return. The candlelight flickers next to them.

Before he can go any further, Spike has to know. “Buffy. Wait.”

“Don’t wanna.” Her voice takes on a pouting quality immediately as her hands work their way down and down again...

He uses his every bit of willpower, plus some he didn’t know he had to stop her hands. Why does he care why she is doing this? He kicks himself for possibly screwing up a great thing.

“Spell’s over, luv.”

She is quiet and he wonders if he could be this wrong.

Buffy realizes that it is time to be honest. Here in the dark, one flame dancing across her naked body, she is strong and facing it.

“I know.” Her response is so quiet, he wants to ask her to repeat herself.

“You know?”

“I do.” He hears her hesitate, clearly struggling with her next words, making little noises. “But I...don’t care.”

“You don’t care?”

“Yes, I mean, no. I do.”

“You do care?” Spike is getting more confused. “Buffy, luv. I’m lost. What do you care about?”

A few beats of silence. He can hear her take a deep breath before meeting his eyes again in the dancing light. In slow motion, she leans closer, eyes darting between his eyes and his mouth. He feels her skin trembling under his hands. Finally closing her eyes briefly, she touches her lips to his, pressing lightly just for a moment. She meets his eyes again before speaking.

“You don't? ’