Shot in the Dark
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
46
Views:
2,214
Reviews:
62
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
46
Views:
2,214
Reviews:
62
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.
Chapter 41: Good Morning
* * * * *
Chapter 41: Good Morning
* * * * *
Buffy lies very very still. She knows the slightest movement could wake Spike and she would like to keep him asleep a little longer. Finally exhausted by both fear and a large amount of sex, they both dropped off for some much needed sleep before dawn. Only her sleep was filled with ominous nightmares and fitful tossing, so Buffy gave up. She looks at her love, sleeping the sleep of the dead. Or undead. No nightmares appear to plague him. Her head turned to face him on the same pillow, Buffy studies his features in their relaxed state. Not the first time she’s done this, and she really hopes it is not the last.
She looks him over thoroughly, trying somehow to detect evidence that he has been alive for over a hundred years. She can’t find any. She just sees the mouth she now knows so well, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, the strong line of his nose, the stretch of lashes brushing his cheek. Buffy bites back a sigh. God, he is beautiful. And he is hers.
Now, to the question of the hour. How is she going to keep him? Meaning, how is she going to keep him from doing something heroic and sacrificing himself for her, for the rest of the humans on the planet? It figures that falling in love with her would be the very thing that could bring him to the end of this long long existence. Giles should call her this morning. Let her know what they found last night, whether he has any new ideas. The thought of that phone call fills her with a sense of both dread and hope at the same time. Her train of thought is interrupted by the stirring of her lover. Sleepy blue eyes meet hers in question and she ventures a smile at him before planting a good morning kiss on his lips.
After a few false starts, Buffy and Spike end up in the kitchen, with Buffy insisting that she needed some sustenance beyond sex. Buffy pokes in the refrigerator and the cupboard for breakfast fare. Spike lounges against the island, watching her. His eyes travel down her slender body, the curves of her back, hips and legs obvious through the thin robe. She turns to ask him a question and catches the hungry look in his eyes.
“Uh-uh! Buffy is getting to eat something today, mister. Some food. Human food. Like eggs and bacon and toast. And juice. Oh, and coffee.” She deposits the items she has gathered from the cabinet to make breakfast.
Spike arches his eyebrows at her long list. “And love, do you know how to make any of those things?”
Buffy sputters in indignation. “Of course! I am quite capable of…” She looks at the raw ingredients piled up on the island, brow knitting. “…juice. I’m excellent with juice.” Her megawatt smile makes Spike shake his head, chuckling.
“Let me show you how this is done, pet. Take that lovely bum of yours and sit it down.” Spike stands up, stretching his clasped hands in front of him before cracking his neck first to the right and then to the left. Licking her lips in approval, Buffy perches on the edge of the stool at the island to watch Spike at work. He goes to the kitchen window first, closing the blinds to protect himself from the bright morning sun. He begins to sort the ingredients and then stops to take stock. Spike turns back to the refrigerator, returning with a few more items, including ham and green onions. Seeing Buffy’s confused face, Spike says, “Omelets.”
Buffy nods, deciding to hide the fact that she had no idea people made omelets themselves at home. She thought they were pretty much ‘restaurant food.’ She puts her elbows on the island and props her chin on her hands. Spike is full of surprises.
“So, you cook?”
“Yes.” Spike’s bare back is turned to Buffy as he gathers skillets from the cabinet under the stove. She’s so glad he neglected to put on a shirt.
“Why?”
“Don’t need food, doesn’t mean I don’t like it, Slayer.” He turns back to her, smirk in place. “I know what tastes good, you know.” The expression on his face is positively lascivious and Buffy feels a pink blush spread on her cheeks.
Mission accomplished, Spike starts chopping various ingredients and preparing breakfast with a skill clearly honed over many years. Never before exposed to this domestic side of the blond vampire, Buffy is not sure what to do. She decides watching is a good thing, as he looks incredibly hot beating eggs half naked. Of course, he looks incredibly hot doing anything, but this is new. Plus, she is going to get fed.
“Toast!” Spike looks at Buffy quizzically after her outburst. Her next words are a bit quieter. “I’m also good with toast.”
“Juice and toast. It’s a wonder you have the strength to slay, pet.”
“I’ve got strength for lots of things, so hush and make me some food, cutie.” She giggles and sits back as Spike turns back to his task, a smile playing across his face, eyes dancing with mirth.
Buffy smiles at him as he moves back and forth between the island and the stove, hands moving deftly and quickly. Raw ingredients quickly turn into final products and the scents filling the kitchen are heavenly. Spike gets the coffee percolating, adding one more heady scent to the mix. Buffy’s stomach growls in anticipation and Spike laughs under his breath.
Eyes following his every move as he brings together the meal, Buffy feels a warmth towards Spike of the most tender kind. Yes, she loves him madly. But it turns out she also likes him. Sitting here with him, doing the most domestic and everyday of things - and she is blissfully happy. The nagging doubt of what tomorrow morning will bring is temporarily blocked by her enjoyment of this very moment. They are acting like an old married couple. The rightness of it and the way she easily slides into the role with him should surprise her, but it just feels so good, she can’t be bothered.
Spike realizes the Slayer has fallen quiet in the last few minutes. He turns from his position at the stove to see her gaze on him, but with a sort of faraway look in her eyes. He doesn’t realize she is picturing what their kids would be like if they could only have any. Her eyes come back into focus, seeing him clearly again. Spike smiles at her, just a little, as something unspoken but profound passes between them over orange juice and broken egg shells. Hearing the bacon sizzling on the stove snaps Spike out of it and he turns back to the stove, spell broken.
Without his glacier blue eyn hen her, Buffy realizes her heart is pounding. The last few days have sent her mind reeling over and over. From hating Spike to craving Spike to truly madly loving Spike and now…and now she thinks of him in the same sentence as forever? As marriage? And god, she’s happy. In the next breath, hot tears sting her eyes. The prophecy.
“Dammit.” Unaware she has spoken aloud, Buffy is surprised to hear Spike answer her while still pushing the crisping bacon around the pan.
“What’s wrong, pet?” His voice is casual, so Buffy fights down the fear churning in her empty stomach. Her perfect vision may be shattered, but he doesn’t have to know it.
“It’s just that I’m so hungry…” With a quiet grace bred from years of slaying, Buffy slips from her chair and comes up behind Spike.
“No worries, love, food’s just about ready…and you are not talking about food.” Spike’s first clue is Buffy’s mouth against his back, moist and warm. To his credit, he doesn’t even jump, just hesitates a little in the flipping of a strip of bacon. She presses her lips against his shoulder blade before sliding all the way behind him. Buffy lets her hands come around and slide down his chest, skating lightly over the sculpted muscle before coming to rest with her thumbs hooked in his waistband. Standing on her tiptoes, Buffy nips at Spike’s earlobe with her blunt teeth.
“See, I’m just starving, Spikey. Can’t help it.” Her tongue dances over the lobe as her hot breath lights up his skin. Spike drops the spatula in the skillet with a low moan as Buffy’s nimble fingers start to undo the front of his jeans.
“Slayer, your breakfast is going to get cold.” Spike’s protest is very half-hearted. Maybe more like a quarter-hearted. Buffy’s hands continue exploring, her warm fingers dancing around Spike’s rapidly swelling cock.
“Nuh-uh.” Buffy withdraws from Spike, eliciting a sound of protest. She hops up on the island behind him, legs dang. g. He turns to scold her and finds that she is wearing the most delightful grin, mischief making her green eyes spark. “Feed me.” Tilting her head to the side, Buffy is coy and playful, something Spike cannot resist.
“Yeah?” She nods and Spike grabs the plate he was preparing for her, dipping into the skillet to add the bacon. Turning off the oven, he turns and places her plate on the island next to her. Buffy looks down at the fluffy omelet, golden toast and crispy bacon and her smile widens.
“Oh, Spike, you are the best. My vamp of many talents.” Catching his face between her hands, Buffy pulls him closer, capturing his mouth with hers. Spike’s hands slide around her hips, tightening on the pale blue silk of her robe. He pauses before moving his hands a bit more, seeming to confirm something. The kiss breaks with a giggle from Buffy. She keeps their lips grazing, breathing warm on his face. Spike murmurs, “Completely naked under this scrap, aren’t you?”
Buffy’s only answer is another kiss, this one more demanding, tongue taking control of his with authority. Her legs come up slowly to wrap around his hips, ankles locking, bringing him into her circle, closer to her core and the warmth emanating in waves. Out of breath, Buffy pulls back from the kiss first, cheeks flushed prettily. Moments later, a forkful of omelet appears before her. Opening her mouth, she locks her eyes into Spike’s as he slides the fork into her mouth. Taking the bite slowly off the tines, Buffy moans in appreciation, eyes closing briefly as she licks her lips. Spike wonders if just watching the Slayer eat is going to make him come in his pants.
“You like it, then?” He smirks, knowing the answer.
“Mmm. God, it’s delicious, Spike.” She swallows and looks at him expectantly. “More, more.”
“So bloody demanding.” But he loves it, she can tell. He is getting off on this scene of domestic bliss as much as she is. Next is a piece of bacon, which Buffy bites off happily. Her entire body displays her approval and Spike wonders if she realizes her arousal is like a sledgehammer to his head. He strains to remain focused even as the heavenly scent teases him and her legs rub up and down his hips. She strains forward for the next bite, letting her robe fall open and he catches a glimpse of her tempting breasts. And so it goes, Buffy eating and teasing and moaning while Spike feeds her and concentrates on not losing control before she’s had her fill.
She licks her lips after the last bite of omelet and Spike finds himself watching her tongue dart out, leaving her full lips lush and moist. It’s almost the last straw.
“Slayer.” Buffy pretends not to hear the strain in his voice, not to notice the tightly corded muscles in his neck and the most prominent bulge in his half undone jeans. Instead, she takes his hand in hers and begins to methodically lick each finger, almost cat-like in her thoroughness. She pulls the index finger into her mouth, drawing in her cheeks and Spike’s eyes roll back in his head. This has officially and completely crossed the line from fun with food to Torture Spike. Withdrawing his finger from her mouth, Buffy suddenly tightens her legs, pulling him abruptly against her. Her superheated core is against the straining fabric of his jeans and he can feel the heat right through the denim.
She pushes her bottom lip out in a mock pout. Her left hand flattens against his abs and slides down into his loosened jeans without warning, finding her target like a heat-seeking missile. “Still hungry, Spike.” With a broad sweep of both his arms, Spike knocks all the dishes to the floor from the island with a crash. The next moment, Buffy’s back is on the countertop and she has one incredibly aroused vampire over her, chest heaving with his unneeded breath. And through it all, she keeps one hand on his cock.
“Not full, eh?” Spike arches his eyebrows as he marvels at her.
“Not yet.” Up and down her hand goes, making him harder and harder under her attention. “Think you can help out?”
“I believe something can be arranged…” Spike, holding his weight off Buffy with one hand planted by her head, uses the other to tease open her robe. Her golden body is exposed to his hungry gaze, completely bare and incredibly inviting. The fingers ghost over her cheek before tracing down her neck, out over her collarbone and down between her breasts. “So so beautiful, love.” She sees the flicker in his eyes from blue to gold and she wonders if he knows it is happening. The idea that his craving for her is akin to a bloodlust does not disturb her as it might have another time. It seems to fit the way they feel. The desire is fierce, relentless, and the fact that he is fighting for control only shows how deep the emotions run, how thoroughly they are connected to each other. Moments later, his eyes, all blue now, light on her with tenderness and she remembers why this is so good. Because she gets both. She gets the battle, the tussle between equals as well as the attentions of a careful lover.
Their movements switch to languid now instead of frantic. Hands tangled into her hair, Spike finally positions himself at her entrance. He plants light kisses across her face, ending his journey at her mouth. Buffy’s fingers scrape down his strong back, encouraging him to continue. As Spike thrusts into her while they are still kissing, Buffy moans against his mouth, the vibration setting them both off. Spike’s kiss grows in intensity, teeth nipping at her tongue, lips pressing harder. Buffy arches her body into his at the sharp sensation, accelerating his slow thrust in one sharp move. She cries out at the depth of his cock inside her, the fullness startling but not unpleasant. Holding that position against him, she clasps the back of his neck with one hand, refusing to end the kiss. Finally, she lets her rear come back to the island surface and Spike follows, remaining buried in her to the hilt. He nibbles her bottom lip as she loosens her grip on the nape of his neck. The kisses move along her jawline, dancing over the healed pink marks on her neck from their previous encounters. Exquisitely sensitive, touching the skin around the punctures makes Buffy jump. Spike moves to the other side of her neck his mouth going over her old scars from Angel and the Master without the same effect. It was no accident that he chose to bite her on the other side. Not interested in sharing, particularly not with Peaches.
Convinced he will not come on his next move, Spike pulls back and thrusts into Buffy slowly, but forcefully. He lifts her off the counter just slightly with every drive and she gasps in pleasure. Taking one nipple in his mouth, Spike rolls it roughly over his tongue, hardening it instantly. Repeating this treatment on the other breast leaves Buffy panting slightly, her breaths short and fast. Arching her hips to meet his, each and every thrust hits her clit directly and Buffy wonders if she will black out when this orgasm hits. Feeling the pressure building, Buffy buries her face in his neck, the platinum curls tickling her nose. Body trembling from the force of their lovemaking, she manages to whisper to him, “I love you, Spike. More than ever. Love you more than I thought I could love…”
The last bit is what gets him. Spike comes with the noise of a freight train, a roar that bounces off the kitchen walls announcing his arrival. Knowing she is close, feeling her muscles twitch, Spike manages a few more thrusts, sending the shockwaves pulsing through Buffy’s body as she comes in a rush of pleasure and intense sensation. He collapses on her, forgetting that he did not want to put all his weight on her. She wraps arms and legs tight around him in a gesture that indicates she doesn’t mind.
Mouth against hers, Spike murmurs, “Love you, Buffy. God, I do love you.”
Moments later, a jarring sound rouses them both from their post-coital bliss. Buffy’s heart jumps into her throat as she identifies the sound and reality crashes back in around her. The phone. Giles. Oh god.
*************
Author’s Note: Sorry for the loooong delay. Between the flu and traveling for the holidays and another fic I’m working on, it couldn’t be helped! Hope you all enjoy and leave reviews. :) -Ti
Chapter 41: Good Morning
* * * * *
Buffy lies very very still. She knows the slightest movement could wake Spike and she would like to keep him asleep a little longer. Finally exhausted by both fear and a large amount of sex, they both dropped off for some much needed sleep before dawn. Only her sleep was filled with ominous nightmares and fitful tossing, so Buffy gave up. She looks at her love, sleeping the sleep of the dead. Or undead. No nightmares appear to plague him. Her head turned to face him on the same pillow, Buffy studies his features in their relaxed state. Not the first time she’s done this, and she really hopes it is not the last.
She looks him over thoroughly, trying somehow to detect evidence that he has been alive for over a hundred years. She can’t find any. She just sees the mouth she now knows so well, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, the strong line of his nose, the stretch of lashes brushing his cheek. Buffy bites back a sigh. God, he is beautiful. And he is hers.
Now, to the question of the hour. How is she going to keep him? Meaning, how is she going to keep him from doing something heroic and sacrificing himself for her, for the rest of the humans on the planet? It figures that falling in love with her would be the very thing that could bring him to the end of this long long existence. Giles should call her this morning. Let her know what they found last night, whether he has any new ideas. The thought of that phone call fills her with a sense of both dread and hope at the same time. Her train of thought is interrupted by the stirring of her lover. Sleepy blue eyes meet hers in question and she ventures a smile at him before planting a good morning kiss on his lips.
After a few false starts, Buffy and Spike end up in the kitchen, with Buffy insisting that she needed some sustenance beyond sex. Buffy pokes in the refrigerator and the cupboard for breakfast fare. Spike lounges against the island, watching her. His eyes travel down her slender body, the curves of her back, hips and legs obvious through the thin robe. She turns to ask him a question and catches the hungry look in his eyes.
“Uh-uh! Buffy is getting to eat something today, mister. Some food. Human food. Like eggs and bacon and toast. And juice. Oh, and coffee.” She deposits the items she has gathered from the cabinet to make breakfast.
Spike arches his eyebrows at her long list. “And love, do you know how to make any of those things?”
Buffy sputters in indignation. “Of course! I am quite capable of…” She looks at the raw ingredients piled up on the island, brow knitting. “…juice. I’m excellent with juice.” Her megawatt smile makes Spike shake his head, chuckling.
“Let me show you how this is done, pet. Take that lovely bum of yours and sit it down.” Spike stands up, stretching his clasped hands in front of him before cracking his neck first to the right and then to the left. Licking her lips in approval, Buffy perches on the edge of the stool at the island to watch Spike at work. He goes to the kitchen window first, closing the blinds to protect himself from the bright morning sun. He begins to sort the ingredients and then stops to take stock. Spike turns back to the refrigerator, returning with a few more items, including ham and green onions. Seeing Buffy’s confused face, Spike says, “Omelets.”
Buffy nods, deciding to hide the fact that she had no idea people made omelets themselves at home. She thought they were pretty much ‘restaurant food.’ She puts her elbows on the island and props her chin on her hands. Spike is full of surprises.
“So, you cook?”
“Yes.” Spike’s bare back is turned to Buffy as he gathers skillets from the cabinet under the stove. She’s so glad he neglected to put on a shirt.
“Why?”
“Don’t need food, doesn’t mean I don’t like it, Slayer.” He turns back to her, smirk in place. “I know what tastes good, you know.” The expression on his face is positively lascivious and Buffy feels a pink blush spread on her cheeks.
Mission accomplished, Spike starts chopping various ingredients and preparing breakfast with a skill clearly honed over many years. Never before exposed to this domestic side of the blond vampire, Buffy is not sure what to do. She decides watching is a good thing, as he looks incredibly hot beating eggs half naked. Of course, he looks incredibly hot doing anything, but this is new. Plus, she is going to get fed.
“Toast!” Spike looks at Buffy quizzically after her outburst. Her next words are a bit quieter. “I’m also good with toast.”
“Juice and toast. It’s a wonder you have the strength to slay, pet.”
“I’ve got strength for lots of things, so hush and make me some food, cutie.” She giggles and sits back as Spike turns back to his task, a smile playing across his face, eyes dancing with mirth.
Buffy smiles at him as he moves back and forth between the island and the stove, hands moving deftly and quickly. Raw ingredients quickly turn into final products and the scents filling the kitchen are heavenly. Spike gets the coffee percolating, adding one more heady scent to the mix. Buffy’s stomach growls in anticipation and Spike laughs under his breath.
Eyes following his every move as he brings together the meal, Buffy feels a warmth towards Spike of the most tender kind. Yes, she loves him madly. But it turns out she also likes him. Sitting here with him, doing the most domestic and everyday of things - and she is blissfully happy. The nagging doubt of what tomorrow morning will bring is temporarily blocked by her enjoyment of this very moment. They are acting like an old married couple. The rightness of it and the way she easily slides into the role with him should surprise her, but it just feels so good, she can’t be bothered.
Spike realizes the Slayer has fallen quiet in the last few minutes. He turns from his position at the stove to see her gaze on him, but with a sort of faraway look in her eyes. He doesn’t realize she is picturing what their kids would be like if they could only have any. Her eyes come back into focus, seeing him clearly again. Spike smiles at her, just a little, as something unspoken but profound passes between them over orange juice and broken egg shells. Hearing the bacon sizzling on the stove snaps Spike out of it and he turns back to the stove, spell broken.
Without his glacier blue eyn hen her, Buffy realizes her heart is pounding. The last few days have sent her mind reeling over and over. From hating Spike to craving Spike to truly madly loving Spike and now…and now she thinks of him in the same sentence as forever? As marriage? And god, she’s happy. In the next breath, hot tears sting her eyes. The prophecy.
“Dammit.” Unaware she has spoken aloud, Buffy is surprised to hear Spike answer her while still pushing the crisping bacon around the pan.
“What’s wrong, pet?” His voice is casual, so Buffy fights down the fear churning in her empty stomach. Her perfect vision may be shattered, but he doesn’t have to know it.
“It’s just that I’m so hungry…” With a quiet grace bred from years of slaying, Buffy slips from her chair and comes up behind Spike.
“No worries, love, food’s just about ready…and you are not talking about food.” Spike’s first clue is Buffy’s mouth against his back, moist and warm. To his credit, he doesn’t even jump, just hesitates a little in the flipping of a strip of bacon. She presses her lips against his shoulder blade before sliding all the way behind him. Buffy lets her hands come around and slide down his chest, skating lightly over the sculpted muscle before coming to rest with her thumbs hooked in his waistband. Standing on her tiptoes, Buffy nips at Spike’s earlobe with her blunt teeth.
“See, I’m just starving, Spikey. Can’t help it.” Her tongue dances over the lobe as her hot breath lights up his skin. Spike drops the spatula in the skillet with a low moan as Buffy’s nimble fingers start to undo the front of his jeans.
“Slayer, your breakfast is going to get cold.” Spike’s protest is very half-hearted. Maybe more like a quarter-hearted. Buffy’s hands continue exploring, her warm fingers dancing around Spike’s rapidly swelling cock.
“Nuh-uh.” Buffy withdraws from Spike, eliciting a sound of protest. She hops up on the island behind him, legs dang. g. He turns to scold her and finds that she is wearing the most delightful grin, mischief making her green eyes spark. “Feed me.” Tilting her head to the side, Buffy is coy and playful, something Spike cannot resist.
“Yeah?” She nods and Spike grabs the plate he was preparing for her, dipping into the skillet to add the bacon. Turning off the oven, he turns and places her plate on the island next to her. Buffy looks down at the fluffy omelet, golden toast and crispy bacon and her smile widens.
“Oh, Spike, you are the best. My vamp of many talents.” Catching his face between her hands, Buffy pulls him closer, capturing his mouth with hers. Spike’s hands slide around her hips, tightening on the pale blue silk of her robe. He pauses before moving his hands a bit more, seeming to confirm something. The kiss breaks with a giggle from Buffy. She keeps their lips grazing, breathing warm on his face. Spike murmurs, “Completely naked under this scrap, aren’t you?”
Buffy’s only answer is another kiss, this one more demanding, tongue taking control of his with authority. Her legs come up slowly to wrap around his hips, ankles locking, bringing him into her circle, closer to her core and the warmth emanating in waves. Out of breath, Buffy pulls back from the kiss first, cheeks flushed prettily. Moments later, a forkful of omelet appears before her. Opening her mouth, she locks her eyes into Spike’s as he slides the fork into her mouth. Taking the bite slowly off the tines, Buffy moans in appreciation, eyes closing briefly as she licks her lips. Spike wonders if just watching the Slayer eat is going to make him come in his pants.
“You like it, then?” He smirks, knowing the answer.
“Mmm. God, it’s delicious, Spike.” She swallows and looks at him expectantly. “More, more.”
“So bloody demanding.” But he loves it, she can tell. He is getting off on this scene of domestic bliss as much as she is. Next is a piece of bacon, which Buffy bites off happily. Her entire body displays her approval and Spike wonders if she realizes her arousal is like a sledgehammer to his head. He strains to remain focused even as the heavenly scent teases him and her legs rub up and down his hips. She strains forward for the next bite, letting her robe fall open and he catches a glimpse of her tempting breasts. And so it goes, Buffy eating and teasing and moaning while Spike feeds her and concentrates on not losing control before she’s had her fill.
She licks her lips after the last bite of omelet and Spike finds himself watching her tongue dart out, leaving her full lips lush and moist. It’s almost the last straw.
“Slayer.” Buffy pretends not to hear the strain in his voice, not to notice the tightly corded muscles in his neck and the most prominent bulge in his half undone jeans. Instead, she takes his hand in hers and begins to methodically lick each finger, almost cat-like in her thoroughness. She pulls the index finger into her mouth, drawing in her cheeks and Spike’s eyes roll back in his head. This has officially and completely crossed the line from fun with food to Torture Spike. Withdrawing his finger from her mouth, Buffy suddenly tightens her legs, pulling him abruptly against her. Her superheated core is against the straining fabric of his jeans and he can feel the heat right through the denim.
She pushes her bottom lip out in a mock pout. Her left hand flattens against his abs and slides down into his loosened jeans without warning, finding her target like a heat-seeking missile. “Still hungry, Spike.” With a broad sweep of both his arms, Spike knocks all the dishes to the floor from the island with a crash. The next moment, Buffy’s back is on the countertop and she has one incredibly aroused vampire over her, chest heaving with his unneeded breath. And through it all, she keeps one hand on his cock.
“Not full, eh?” Spike arches his eyebrows as he marvels at her.
“Not yet.” Up and down her hand goes, making him harder and harder under her attention. “Think you can help out?”
“I believe something can be arranged…” Spike, holding his weight off Buffy with one hand planted by her head, uses the other to tease open her robe. Her golden body is exposed to his hungry gaze, completely bare and incredibly inviting. The fingers ghost over her cheek before tracing down her neck, out over her collarbone and down between her breasts. “So so beautiful, love.” She sees the flicker in his eyes from blue to gold and she wonders if he knows it is happening. The idea that his craving for her is akin to a bloodlust does not disturb her as it might have another time. It seems to fit the way they feel. The desire is fierce, relentless, and the fact that he is fighting for control only shows how deep the emotions run, how thoroughly they are connected to each other. Moments later, his eyes, all blue now, light on her with tenderness and she remembers why this is so good. Because she gets both. She gets the battle, the tussle between equals as well as the attentions of a careful lover.
Their movements switch to languid now instead of frantic. Hands tangled into her hair, Spike finally positions himself at her entrance. He plants light kisses across her face, ending his journey at her mouth. Buffy’s fingers scrape down his strong back, encouraging him to continue. As Spike thrusts into her while they are still kissing, Buffy moans against his mouth, the vibration setting them both off. Spike’s kiss grows in intensity, teeth nipping at her tongue, lips pressing harder. Buffy arches her body into his at the sharp sensation, accelerating his slow thrust in one sharp move. She cries out at the depth of his cock inside her, the fullness startling but not unpleasant. Holding that position against him, she clasps the back of his neck with one hand, refusing to end the kiss. Finally, she lets her rear come back to the island surface and Spike follows, remaining buried in her to the hilt. He nibbles her bottom lip as she loosens her grip on the nape of his neck. The kisses move along her jawline, dancing over the healed pink marks on her neck from their previous encounters. Exquisitely sensitive, touching the skin around the punctures makes Buffy jump. Spike moves to the other side of her neck his mouth going over her old scars from Angel and the Master without the same effect. It was no accident that he chose to bite her on the other side. Not interested in sharing, particularly not with Peaches.
Convinced he will not come on his next move, Spike pulls back and thrusts into Buffy slowly, but forcefully. He lifts her off the counter just slightly with every drive and she gasps in pleasure. Taking one nipple in his mouth, Spike rolls it roughly over his tongue, hardening it instantly. Repeating this treatment on the other breast leaves Buffy panting slightly, her breaths short and fast. Arching her hips to meet his, each and every thrust hits her clit directly and Buffy wonders if she will black out when this orgasm hits. Feeling the pressure building, Buffy buries her face in his neck, the platinum curls tickling her nose. Body trembling from the force of their lovemaking, she manages to whisper to him, “I love you, Spike. More than ever. Love you more than I thought I could love…”
The last bit is what gets him. Spike comes with the noise of a freight train, a roar that bounces off the kitchen walls announcing his arrival. Knowing she is close, feeling her muscles twitch, Spike manages a few more thrusts, sending the shockwaves pulsing through Buffy’s body as she comes in a rush of pleasure and intense sensation. He collapses on her, forgetting that he did not want to put all his weight on her. She wraps arms and legs tight around him in a gesture that indicates she doesn’t mind.
Mouth against hers, Spike murmurs, “Love you, Buffy. God, I do love you.”
Moments later, a jarring sound rouses them both from their post-coital bliss. Buffy’s heart jumps into her throat as she identifies the sound and reality crashes back in around her. The phone. Giles. Oh god.
*************
Author’s Note: Sorry for the loooong delay. Between the flu and traveling for the holidays and another fic I’m working on, it couldn’t be helped! Hope you all enjoy and leave reviews. :) -Ti