Patrolling-Schmatrolling

CHAPTER 4

When Buffy began to stir, the moon was very high over them, shining down like a spotlight on their mostly naked bodies. A soft, satisfied moan escaped her lips as she moved about a little, turning up toward the sky and looking for the stars which were scattered further out from the moon's intense glow. Pine needles framed the heavenly portrait against the deep ebony of the night sky.

She felt Spike's arm tighten around her, trying to keep her there, a silent plea from him, "Not yet, stay a little longer, not yet." She sank back down into him, pressing her cheek to his cool, smooth chest. He relaxed back into sleep.

Buffy's eyes wandered over his body as she felt herself beginning to need him again. Fingertips traced the well-defined muscles of his stomach which led joyfully to the tiny cave of his navel and from there the soft curls which were already luring her to explore and taste him again. She sighed. Why did this feel so right? She should be horrified at what had happened and that she was still lying there naked with Spike, SPIKE, in the middle of the woods. But she wasn't horrified. She was dreamy and warm and floaty. There they lay, bathed in moonlight and a few remaining remnants of their clothing, surrounded by trees and the heavens and the distant sound of crickets and she felt strangely at peace.

She felt his lips in her hair, a whisper coming over her. "You awake, luv?" His voice was calm and subdued, two things that never described Spike. She liked it.

"Uh-huhmmm" she cooed into him, tilting her head up toward him and losing herself for just a moment in the intense blue eyes which were looking at her with adoration. He was so incredibly beautiful, sculptured like a Michelangelo statue, marble-hued skin that appeared soft and welcoming contrasting with the sharp angles of his features. Just his appearance alone was a contradiction, like so much of the rest of Spike ... the vampire who couldn't feed and couldn't fight humans, but could beat the Hell out of any other creature. His vicious nature was legendary amongst vampires, vicious creatures themselves, yet, lying here with him under a blanket of stars and moonlight, she felt anything but threatened.

"We have a few hours before sunrise." He'd have loved to move indoors, somewhere a little less exposed, where they could sleep the rest of the night and half the day. He didn't dare mention it. He was afraid to say more, afraid that she'd come to her senses and bolt out of the woods like a frightened deer.

"Mmmmm, good," she moaned warmly and snuggled into him, wanting to be closer.

He placed a light kiss on her forehead. It was curiously affectionate, not the urgent passion that they had experienced earlier, the desperate grasping and taking of each other. It was like a seal on what had happened. A simple, gentle kiss. It made her toes tingle. Maybe he truly did love her, she thought to herself. Perhaps all those months of his obsessive, stalker-ish behavior had something real and soulful behind it. Soulful. Not exactly the right word for a vampire, but still she felt that from him, felt something within him which was gratified to be wrapped around her, not just a somewhat sinister sexual attraction. His grip tightened on her again as if he could sense her thoughts, just a tiny squeeze and he relaxed again. She suddenly spoke.

"I liked ... what you did, uh, what we did."

"What, luv?" Spike was lost in his own thoughts, reliving every moment they'd had in the last few hours, retracing the passion that passed between them.

Her voice softened as she looked up at him more earnestly. "I liked it a lot."

Finally realizing what she was saying, a broad smile spread across his lips. God, she was beautiful, the perfect mixture of hard and soft, her features smallish, almost pixyish, but the curves of her body and the soft sheen of her hair made her an incredible combination of love and strength. He could easily see himself staying with her, and her alone, for the rest of forever. This was no longer a silly, obsessive crush to him, she had become more important than some infatuation. Without even knowing it, she had been entrusted with his heart, all longing and desire, now entrusted to this sweet face with the hazel eyes.

"I didn't."

"Huh??" Buffy was stunned. She stiffened, lifting her head off his chest and looking at him incredulously.

Spike gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "It was much more than like, pet. Much more." His hand buried itself into her hair pulling her up toward his face. She softened beneath his touch and his words. He'd tricked her for only a moment and she had been ready to continue with pounding him rather than ... this. Their lips touched softly and an electrical current seemed to surge through them both, igniting their desire again.

Without parting their lips, Buffy climbed up on him again, her knees hng hng his sides as her hands explored up his chest onto his shoulders and down his jacket-covered arms. He was overdressed. Urgently, with their lips still hungrily attached, they worked together to get his duster and what was left of his shirt shaken off his arms, while at the same time, Buffy slipped out of her open blouse. They lay there completely naked, an intertwined tangle of limbs, lips, and torsos, exploring and touching and kissing. Each kiss was deeper, more penetrating as their tongues caressed in a delicious slow dance.

Buffy caressed his shoulders, gently running her hands down each of his muscular arms, squeezing him so tightly he gave a cringe of rebellion which melted into a moan of pleasure. His hands gently traced the swell of hip hips and lifted her slightly, shifting her down so that the fire burning inside them could touch and mingle. When his hardened shaft met her moist lips, they moaned in pleasure together. He remained outside her, shifting his hips in small circles so that the full length of his cock caressed and stroked her sensitive and throbbing clit. She pressed against him, he pressed back, keeping up the sweet, agonizing massage that was quickly sending them both of the edge of an erotic cliff. It was slow and soft and seductive and compelling, without the urgency of the previous hours. He was dragging this out, making it last, making it more like love than sex. Part of Buffy objected, love with Spike was just not an option; but a larger part gave into it completely, reveling in his touch, his skill, and the love which hung on him like a sparkling aura wanting to engulf her.

She squirmed, trying to force him inside her. "Spike .... " She wanted him badly, very badly, and he was torturing her, withholding himself until she was reaching a point of frustration.

"Mmmmmm, almost, pet, almost," he cooed beneath her perpetuating his slow, circular rhythm. "Almost."

"Let me .... Spike ... I want to co... ohhhmmmmm," she couldn't stand it. She began plotting revenge against him. He was cruel, he was deliberately keeping her balancing on the edge of ecstasy and holding her there. No fair. She wanted to come, and he wouldn't let her. He was going to be so punished.

Spike smiled up at the tortured face of the Slayer. He was having great difficulty himself. There was little else he wanted right now more than to plunge deeply inside to her very core and be surrounded and squeezed by her until he died from it. But ... he wanted her to ask for it, he wanted her to realize she how much she needed and wanted this. Wanted him. And if he gave into her now, and filled her, it would be forgotten, everything would be forgotten. He wanted her to know it, see them for what they were. Lovers.

Buffy began to whimper softly. She just couldn't stand it anymore, and he made it worse by trailing his fingertips up her sides and brushing delicately across both her nipples. She gasped and her head dropped back as a tiny cry escaped her lips. She lifted, determined to capture him inside her, and he deftly slipped slightly to the side to avoid it. It was not easy, but he managed it, and she persisted a few more times until it was obvious to her he was not going to come into her until he was good and ready. "What does he want?" she thought desperately. "Spike ...." she was breathless and urgent.

"What, pet?" He pressed firmly onto the hardened button of her clit, feeling it pulse on top of him.

"Let me ..." she tried to speak.

"What, pet?" he grinned a little but didn't let up on her even the tiniest bit, "What do you want, pet?"

"Want ... to ..." her mind was fuzzy, were words coming out of her mouth?

"Want to what, pet? Just ask, and it's yours." His voice was soft and seductive and washed over her like the crashing tide waiting to engulf them both.

She whimpered again, and the words began to form, "Spike ... want ... to ... e wae was panting now, urgently needing him, all she had to do was tell him, to say it. "Please ..."

That was enough. Please. She'd said pleased. She'd asked for him. "Spike, please." His non-beating heart filled up and exploded as he arched his back and drove deeply into her. She screamed, her cry filling the air with the sounds of pleasure as the touch of him in the deepest part of her sent her sailing over that cliff like she could fly.

Spike held back for himself, he wanted to wait and bring her to climax again, perhaps several times, and at last he would let them come together. As she was just returning to him, he slipped out of her and rolled her over. She willingly went, basking in afterglow and settling onto her back, wrapping herself around him, arms, legs, her very being, panting and moaning softly at every touch and sensation. She could feel his need all over her, surrounding her, why was he holding back?

He pushed her knees up toward her shoulders, opening her up to him as he pressed the length of his torso onto her and slathered her face, lips, and neck with passion-filled kisses. She could feel his still fiercely erect cock pressing against her bottom, rubbing against her and begging for release. Spike's hungry mouth gradually worked his way down to her chest, nipping at her knees on either side of his head and flicking his cool tongue over each of her nipples, making them pucker yet again. He grabbed her ankles, holding them against the soft cheeks of her ass, her knees immobilized at her shoulders as he delved down even further, licking and sucking her skin, leaving a little blazing trail of passion behind. He was amazing, an unspoken poet of such artistry she could think of nothing else but him. Over a hundred years of intimacy had not tarnished him in the least and had, in fact, made him a master of it. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was delighting in showing her how he could make her body absolutely sing with his tongue, his mouth, his hands, his everything.

He moved down even further, burying his mouth into her soft curls and swirling his tongue around her swollen lips, teasing her. He could taste the sweet juices of her arousal and it made him moan into her, sending tingles of pleasure through them both. He licked her, softly from just above the tiny hole of her anus up the shivering flesh of her womanhood without breaking the field, yet using just enough pressure to let the urgency inside her know what he would be bringing to her very soon.

He casually tossed her left ankle over his right shoulder, her foot dangling down his back as he let his right hand caress the back and inside of her thigh, drawing tiny circles of pleasure. Slowly, too slowly, he brought his fingers and his mouth together over her, hovering for just a moment before softly probing open her lower lips and sending his tongue into the promised land to lap and taste her, fingers pressing to her opening as his tongue circled her clit in a relentless exploration of her. He used first one finger, then two to spread her juices around, touching and teasing her flesh, but never completely entering her.

She was lost, absolutely lost to the pleasure he was giving her. Nothing on earth had ever felt so wondrous, so exciting, so right. How did he do this? How could he know just what to do to make her feel like this, so completely helpless to stop. She wanted him never to stop, not ever. His mouth, his fingers, his body, the scent of him which made her dizzy with its intoxicating mix of musk and cool breezes, everything about him devoured her now, and she never wanted to leave.

Spike himself was hanging on in agony; he had been so intent on exploring her that he had ignored his own aching need. He almost had her exactly where he wanted her. As his tongue flicked and danced around her, toying with her opening, teasing her that he might come inside, but never actually doing it, he allowed one fingertip to drop lower, and with the most gentle touch imaginable circled her anal opening.

Fire shot through Buffy as she writhed beneath him. Everything he did was exquisite as she soared off the precipice of orgasm again in the unbelievable release he brought her.

He eased up on her ever so slightly, whispers of tiny touches caressing her as she catapulted away and back in ecstasy. Once she returned again, he began again, teasing, touching, licking, nipping at her, building her up for another explosive moment. She wanted to stop him, she really did. But she couldn't. She was powerless and helpless and she didn't care at this moment if he killed her, as long as he never stopped doing what he was doing.

Her breathing speeded up again and Spike knew this was the one he wanted most of all. A final orgasm to bring them together like combined comets shooting across the sky. He felt it, he felt it coming in them both as her clit begged and begged for more attention from him and as he willingly gave it, mercilessly. As he felt her reaching the point of no return yet again, he eased off, the pressed again, and eased off again, prolonging her, making her dangle on the edge again .... then in one smooth movement he lifted her hips and slid his body up her full length, capturing her lips in his just as he entered her fully, feeling her squeeze and shudder around him. It was glorious. They came together, her with a whimpering cry of relief and him with a growl of ultimate ecstasy, a rapturous duet washing them both out to sea, as wave after wave of pleasure drown them into each other with each long, deep stroke, joining them in a way no two could possibly have ever been joined, both living and dying at the same time ... together.

At that moment, they became one. Entirely and complet Th They both knew that nothing between them would ever be the same again. They had passed the boundaries of sexual gratification and moved into lovemaking ... no interference from others, no consciences filling them with guilt and shame, no thoughts of duty or responsibility, of violence or or slaying or vampires or humans or demons. They were together ... and it changed what they would be to each other forever.