An Englishman in New York
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
6,105
Reviews:
76
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
6,105
Reviews:
76
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Lie to Me
A/N: Thanks so much, Shippy and Shelly.
Wow, Emma, thank you a lot! I don't delude myself into thinking that I'm amazing, LOL.
Aisling, yeah. Unless you recognize it or I credit it, it's mine.
Okay, big smut and angst alert here, but I'm not going to leave it like this, I promise. The rather pathetic poem is mine.
Lie to Me
Later that week, Buffy and Spike parted company after breakfast while she attended History and he had vocal training, the one the he hated most about majoring in music. When he didn’t make an appearance in English, she grew nervous, and when he didn’t show up for lunch, she was on the verge of panic. It simply wasn’t like him to disappear – that had been Angel’s thing.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Buffy,” Willow said sympathetically as she helped her friend make a quick sweep of Spike’s on-campus haunts.
“I just called Xander,” said Anya breathlessly as she jogged to meet them. “He’s not there.”
“Willow’s right,” Tara empathized, “he’s fine. He could have gotten a stomach ache and had to go lie down.”
“We checked the dorm already.”
“Maybe he found an orgasm friend,” Anya offered.
“He did NOT find an orgasm friend,” Buffy snapped, suddenly uncertain. She had been meaning to break up with Riley since they had returned from LA, and for all she knew, he was tired of waiting.
No, he wouldn’t do that, she thought.
“Well, it’s not like you two are together. He’s a man; men get horny and –”
“Anya…” Tara warned, noticing the look on Buffy’s face.
“Buff?” Willow inquired, her eyes wide with astonishment. “You and Spike? And without telling me?”
“You were seeing Tara for how long before you guys finally admitted it at that party?” Buffy countered.
“Point taken, but… Wow.”
“Does he have a big –”
“Anya! It's not like that.”
“We’re going to miss sociology,” Tara reminded the group.
“You guys go on,” said Buffy. “I’m going to check the room one more time. I’ll either catch up with you in class or else I’ll just see you tonight, okay?”
“But, I want to know about the sex. Did he give you many –”
“ANYA!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Buffy was shocked when she opened the door to find Spike packing his clothes in his duffle bag, his movements slow and mechanical. He was leaving her… It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; her father, Angel, Parker, she hadn’t been enough for them, either. “You’re leaving?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“Have to,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarse with emotion.
“Spike, what…?” She settled a hand on his shoulder hesitantly.
“My mother,” he answered. “Dad found her on the bed… with her neck snapped. He knows Wes teaches here, called him, Wes sent for me… Gotta go home.”
“Oh, God.”
“There is no fucking God!” he shouted as he slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a dent in the sheetrock. When he gazed at his bloodied knuckles, he laughed bitterly, a cold, painful sound.
“D-do you want me to go with you?” she whispered, finding the first aid kit she kept under her bed. She tugged his arm to guide him to the sink and poured peroxide over his knuckles, and then gently wrapped his hand. Throughout her tending, he never made a sound. “Spike, I can go with you…”
“No, you stay here and finish school,” he said quickly. “I’m not stayin’ there forever, just for, y’know, the funeral and… the first few months. Someone’s gotta make sure Dad doesn’t do somethin’ stupid, right git that he is.”
Feeling as though someone had injected ice water directly into her veins, Buffy sat down heavily on the makeshift king size bed, her hands trembling slightly. It was so sudden. “Are you okay? God, what a stupid question, of course you’re not okay.”
“We just saw her, y’know? My birthday an-and Christmas, and now she’s just… I’m breathin’, but she’ll never breathe again. She’ll never eat or sleep or… check her e-mail, and it’s…”
Making up her mind in a split second, Buffy rose from the bed and grabbed her suitcase out of the closet, sweeping a several hangers from the rack into it in one quick movement. She gasped in surprise when Spike caught her wrist in a bruising grip. “What are you –”
“No. You’re gonna fucking stay here and learn so that one of us will. I’m not gonna stay there forever. You can’t just up and leave. You’ve got your mum and the little bit; you’ve got your friends and Captain Cardboard and you can’t just leave,” he said firmly.
“And I’m not letting you go to England alone when you need me!”
“I don’t need anyone!” he bellowed. “I’ve never needed anyone, and I sure as fuck don’t need you, Summers. Who do you think you are, the savior of the world? Maybe you still think you’re class protector, eh? Think you can save me from myself?”
“Spike…” she warned.
“What, are you afraid I’m going to –” He suddenly found himself unable to speak, for Buffy had smashed her lips against his with such force that feared he would slice his lip open on his teeth, or possibly on hers.
She broke the kiss only for a moment, shock at her own actions filling her eyes when they met his. As she leaned forward to claim his mouth again, Spike mimicked her movements, kissing her fiercely as his arms closed around her waist to hold her against him.
In the next instant, Buffy shoved him roughly against her closet door and bunched her skirt around her waist before lunging upward to wrap her legs around his waist, grinding herself against him. Spike’s eyes closed as he concentrated on the warmth of her arousal pressed against the front of his jeans, and as he plundered her mouth intensely, he realized that she was doing this to distract him from it all, from his pain and their argument.
So lost was he in kissing her that the sound of his belt being wrenched open and the subsequent rasp of his zipper never registered in his mind, and so it came as a complete surprise when Buffy shoved her thong to the side and impaled herself on his shaft in a single, graceful move. His eyes, filled with love and lust and pain and joy, flew open when he found himself engulfed in her.
For her part, Buffy thought that he had never looked so beautiful as he did in that moment. His expression was one of wonderment and unadulterated pleasure tinged with the love he so obviously felt. That look in his eyes was almost enough to make her come.
Tightening her strong legs around him, she rode him slowly, each movement of her hips a firm drive as she kissed him dazedly. Spike jerked to meet her thrusts for a few moments before turning her and pressing her back against the closet door, gasping harshly as he kept the rhythm she’d set for them.
Buffy was the first to break the kiss, mewling and crying out as she clutched at his shoulders and hair, trembling as a sudden orgasm rolled through her. It had taken less than five minutes, she realized, and still he kept thrusting, groaning breathily against the delicate shell of her ear.
Though it took every ounce of self-control he had, Spike held off, determined not to come until he felt the tightening of her muscles around him again. She might not love him, but she would bloody well remember him. He listened to her little cries of delight as he quickened the rhythm, intent on making her forget everyone who had ever touched her before.
Recalling something he’d read, he ground his pelvis against hers, rotating his hips sharply to stimulate her clit. Buffy sobbed at the expert movement, a series of broken moans leaving her as she came even harder than she had the first time. To her surprise, he didn’t stop.
It was then that Spike realized what was holding him back; he needed to hear the words as much as he’d needed to make her come again. “If you don’t love me,” he whispered huskily, “lie to me.”
“No,” she panted. “No, I do love you.” It was the truth, she realized, and it was what he needed to hear. She shrieked in pleasure when he slammed his hips against hers with such force that she felt the closet door give beneath their weight.
Spike twisted with feline grace as then fell so that he landed beneath her, gasping as his orgasm flooded his senses even as the splintered plywood dug into his back and shoulders through the material of his duster. As the clenching of her muscles slowed along with the throbbing of his cock, they stared at one another in alarm.
Taking a moment to calm herself, Buffy kissed him gently, whimpering softly as he gathered her in his arms and pushed them off the floor. His movements shaky, he carried her to the bed and gently set her down, groaning inwardly at the loss of her warmth surrounding him. He solemnly fastened his jeans and buckled his belt.
“Spike?” His almost robotic movements sent a tremor of fear through her, and she waited with trepidation for him to say something cold as Angel had, something that would shatter her heart.
“I love you. You know it,” he said simply as he removed the dagger from his boot. This wasn't what he'd wanted for their first time, a quick fuck against the wall, but it was what he'd needed, and he acknowledged it.
“I love you,” she whispered. Righting her skirt, she slid down to the edge of the bed and touched his arm.
“No, you don’t,” he said ruefully, “but thanks for saying it.” Taking her hand, he held the blade of the dagger over her palm, meeting her shocked gaze questioningly. At her nod, he drew a fine line across the flesh part of her palm, watching the blood well in the fresh wound, and then did the same to his own hand. He set the dagger aside and locked his wrist around hers, letting the blood mingle.
“Spike?”
“I’m in you now,” he said seriously. “If you need anythin’ while I’m gone… toothpaste or… or just someone to talk to, I’ll be right there.”
“I’m just a phone call or a plane ride away,” she said tearfully. A part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off, that she was a grown woman and could do as she pleased; a part of her wanted to follow him.
Releasing her hand, he licked the blood off his palm and slung his bag over his shoulder. He drew a piece of paper from the pocket of his duster and set it beside her on the bed, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss that left her gasping for breath. A moment later, he swept from the room wordlessly.
As tears slipped silently down her cheeks, Buffy picked up the sheet of notebook paper and opened it, immediately recognizing it as the letter Wes had requested they write – a letter to someone important. A shuddering sigh leaving her, she read it aloud.
Dear Lady,
We all grow older,
And in the first scent of dying
Youth you see reality.
Just let the air settle down.
Dear Forsaken,
If you only ever came in last,
Know this;
In my letters you are the salutation
And the body,
And the closing binds you to me.
Dear Friend,
If you never have another place to be,
You'll always have a home with me.
Dear Buffy,
Who were you
Before you were mine?
Love to last the journey.
Listening from outside the door, Spike clenched his jaw tightly in an effort to fight the urge to storm into the room and beg her to come with him to England. With a sigh of resignation, he schooled his features and hurried outside to meet Wes.
His heart would remain in New York.
Wow, Emma, thank you a lot! I don't delude myself into thinking that I'm amazing, LOL.
Aisling, yeah. Unless you recognize it or I credit it, it's mine.
Okay, big smut and angst alert here, but I'm not going to leave it like this, I promise. The rather pathetic poem is mine.
Lie to Me
Later that week, Buffy and Spike parted company after breakfast while she attended History and he had vocal training, the one the he hated most about majoring in music. When he didn’t make an appearance in English, she grew nervous, and when he didn’t show up for lunch, she was on the verge of panic. It simply wasn’t like him to disappear – that had been Angel’s thing.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Buffy,” Willow said sympathetically as she helped her friend make a quick sweep of Spike’s on-campus haunts.
“I just called Xander,” said Anya breathlessly as she jogged to meet them. “He’s not there.”
“Willow’s right,” Tara empathized, “he’s fine. He could have gotten a stomach ache and had to go lie down.”
“We checked the dorm already.”
“Maybe he found an orgasm friend,” Anya offered.
“He did NOT find an orgasm friend,” Buffy snapped, suddenly uncertain. She had been meaning to break up with Riley since they had returned from LA, and for all she knew, he was tired of waiting.
No, he wouldn’t do that, she thought.
“Well, it’s not like you two are together. He’s a man; men get horny and –”
“Anya…” Tara warned, noticing the look on Buffy’s face.
“Buff?” Willow inquired, her eyes wide with astonishment. “You and Spike? And without telling me?”
“You were seeing Tara for how long before you guys finally admitted it at that party?” Buffy countered.
“Point taken, but… Wow.”
“Does he have a big –”
“Anya! It's not like that.”
“We’re going to miss sociology,” Tara reminded the group.
“You guys go on,” said Buffy. “I’m going to check the room one more time. I’ll either catch up with you in class or else I’ll just see you tonight, okay?”
“But, I want to know about the sex. Did he give you many –”
“ANYA!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Buffy was shocked when she opened the door to find Spike packing his clothes in his duffle bag, his movements slow and mechanical. He was leaving her… It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; her father, Angel, Parker, she hadn’t been enough for them, either. “You’re leaving?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“Have to,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarse with emotion.
“Spike, what…?” She settled a hand on his shoulder hesitantly.
“My mother,” he answered. “Dad found her on the bed… with her neck snapped. He knows Wes teaches here, called him, Wes sent for me… Gotta go home.”
“Oh, God.”
“There is no fucking God!” he shouted as he slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a dent in the sheetrock. When he gazed at his bloodied knuckles, he laughed bitterly, a cold, painful sound.
“D-do you want me to go with you?” she whispered, finding the first aid kit she kept under her bed. She tugged his arm to guide him to the sink and poured peroxide over his knuckles, and then gently wrapped his hand. Throughout her tending, he never made a sound. “Spike, I can go with you…”
“No, you stay here and finish school,” he said quickly. “I’m not stayin’ there forever, just for, y’know, the funeral and… the first few months. Someone’s gotta make sure Dad doesn’t do somethin’ stupid, right git that he is.”
Feeling as though someone had injected ice water directly into her veins, Buffy sat down heavily on the makeshift king size bed, her hands trembling slightly. It was so sudden. “Are you okay? God, what a stupid question, of course you’re not okay.”
“We just saw her, y’know? My birthday an-and Christmas, and now she’s just… I’m breathin’, but she’ll never breathe again. She’ll never eat or sleep or… check her e-mail, and it’s…”
Making up her mind in a split second, Buffy rose from the bed and grabbed her suitcase out of the closet, sweeping a several hangers from the rack into it in one quick movement. She gasped in surprise when Spike caught her wrist in a bruising grip. “What are you –”
“No. You’re gonna fucking stay here and learn so that one of us will. I’m not gonna stay there forever. You can’t just up and leave. You’ve got your mum and the little bit; you’ve got your friends and Captain Cardboard and you can’t just leave,” he said firmly.
“And I’m not letting you go to England alone when you need me!”
“I don’t need anyone!” he bellowed. “I’ve never needed anyone, and I sure as fuck don’t need you, Summers. Who do you think you are, the savior of the world? Maybe you still think you’re class protector, eh? Think you can save me from myself?”
“Spike…” she warned.
“What, are you afraid I’m going to –” He suddenly found himself unable to speak, for Buffy had smashed her lips against his with such force that feared he would slice his lip open on his teeth, or possibly on hers.
She broke the kiss only for a moment, shock at her own actions filling her eyes when they met his. As she leaned forward to claim his mouth again, Spike mimicked her movements, kissing her fiercely as his arms closed around her waist to hold her against him.
In the next instant, Buffy shoved him roughly against her closet door and bunched her skirt around her waist before lunging upward to wrap her legs around his waist, grinding herself against him. Spike’s eyes closed as he concentrated on the warmth of her arousal pressed against the front of his jeans, and as he plundered her mouth intensely, he realized that she was doing this to distract him from it all, from his pain and their argument.
So lost was he in kissing her that the sound of his belt being wrenched open and the subsequent rasp of his zipper never registered in his mind, and so it came as a complete surprise when Buffy shoved her thong to the side and impaled herself on his shaft in a single, graceful move. His eyes, filled with love and lust and pain and joy, flew open when he found himself engulfed in her.
For her part, Buffy thought that he had never looked so beautiful as he did in that moment. His expression was one of wonderment and unadulterated pleasure tinged with the love he so obviously felt. That look in his eyes was almost enough to make her come.
Tightening her strong legs around him, she rode him slowly, each movement of her hips a firm drive as she kissed him dazedly. Spike jerked to meet her thrusts for a few moments before turning her and pressing her back against the closet door, gasping harshly as he kept the rhythm she’d set for them.
Buffy was the first to break the kiss, mewling and crying out as she clutched at his shoulders and hair, trembling as a sudden orgasm rolled through her. It had taken less than five minutes, she realized, and still he kept thrusting, groaning breathily against the delicate shell of her ear.
Though it took every ounce of self-control he had, Spike held off, determined not to come until he felt the tightening of her muscles around him again. She might not love him, but she would bloody well remember him. He listened to her little cries of delight as he quickened the rhythm, intent on making her forget everyone who had ever touched her before.
Recalling something he’d read, he ground his pelvis against hers, rotating his hips sharply to stimulate her clit. Buffy sobbed at the expert movement, a series of broken moans leaving her as she came even harder than she had the first time. To her surprise, he didn’t stop.
It was then that Spike realized what was holding him back; he needed to hear the words as much as he’d needed to make her come again. “If you don’t love me,” he whispered huskily, “lie to me.”
“No,” she panted. “No, I do love you.” It was the truth, she realized, and it was what he needed to hear. She shrieked in pleasure when he slammed his hips against hers with such force that she felt the closet door give beneath their weight.
Spike twisted with feline grace as then fell so that he landed beneath her, gasping as his orgasm flooded his senses even as the splintered plywood dug into his back and shoulders through the material of his duster. As the clenching of her muscles slowed along with the throbbing of his cock, they stared at one another in alarm.
Taking a moment to calm herself, Buffy kissed him gently, whimpering softly as he gathered her in his arms and pushed them off the floor. His movements shaky, he carried her to the bed and gently set her down, groaning inwardly at the loss of her warmth surrounding him. He solemnly fastened his jeans and buckled his belt.
“Spike?” His almost robotic movements sent a tremor of fear through her, and she waited with trepidation for him to say something cold as Angel had, something that would shatter her heart.
“I love you. You know it,” he said simply as he removed the dagger from his boot. This wasn't what he'd wanted for their first time, a quick fuck against the wall, but it was what he'd needed, and he acknowledged it.
“I love you,” she whispered. Righting her skirt, she slid down to the edge of the bed and touched his arm.
“No, you don’t,” he said ruefully, “but thanks for saying it.” Taking her hand, he held the blade of the dagger over her palm, meeting her shocked gaze questioningly. At her nod, he drew a fine line across the flesh part of her palm, watching the blood well in the fresh wound, and then did the same to his own hand. He set the dagger aside and locked his wrist around hers, letting the blood mingle.
“Spike?”
“I’m in you now,” he said seriously. “If you need anythin’ while I’m gone… toothpaste or… or just someone to talk to, I’ll be right there.”
“I’m just a phone call or a plane ride away,” she said tearfully. A part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off, that she was a grown woman and could do as she pleased; a part of her wanted to follow him.
Releasing her hand, he licked the blood off his palm and slung his bag over his shoulder. He drew a piece of paper from the pocket of his duster and set it beside her on the bed, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss that left her gasping for breath. A moment later, he swept from the room wordlessly.
As tears slipped silently down her cheeks, Buffy picked up the sheet of notebook paper and opened it, immediately recognizing it as the letter Wes had requested they write – a letter to someone important. A shuddering sigh leaving her, she read it aloud.
Dear Lady,
We all grow older,
And in the first scent of dying
Youth you see reality.
Just let the air settle down.
Dear Forsaken,
If you only ever came in last,
Know this;
In my letters you are the salutation
And the body,
And the closing binds you to me.
Dear Friend,
If you never have another place to be,
You'll always have a home with me.
Dear Buffy,
Who were you
Before you were mine?
Love to last the journey.
Listening from outside the door, Spike clenched his jaw tightly in an effort to fight the urge to storm into the room and beg her to come with him to England. With a sigh of resignation, he schooled his features and hurried outside to meet Wes.
His heart would remain in New York.