As In: To Swing?

Chapter 9

“I have to go in. It’s late. Or, early, I gue

“No you don’t. Stay with me. Fuck 'im.”

Each exclamation was punctuateth kth kisses. Spike’s hands began ing ing under the hem of her dress making it harder for Buffy to get out of the car and into her house. “Spike, what if Angel wakes up and sees me out here in a cab making out with you? I have to go in.”

She pushed him off of her and reached for the doandlandle.

“Call me tomorrow. You have my number. He gets pissed again, he’s mean again, he’s gone again... You call me and I’ll bloody well get my ass here. You call me.”

She was standing outside now, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand. He kissed it, then released her.

She stood in the middle of the street, dress rumpled and ruined, lips swollen and red, watching the cab drive down the street and away. When she couldn’t see the taillights any more, she sighed, and with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach, walked into her dark house. Angel was in bed asleep. *What is wrong with him? It’s 3 in the morning; we fight, and he doesn’t call or try and find out where I am?*

Angrily she stomped into her closet, grabbed some clothes and her toiletries and made camp in the guest bedroom. She didn’t bother to shower off the scent of her lover tonight. She crawled into bed, curled up into a ball, and drew her forearms to her nose. They still smelled of smoke and of him.

***************

Buffy got up in search of coffee. Angel was dressed in suit and tie, ing ing over his Wall Street Journal. He “humphed” when she sat down across from him.

“Feel a little bit better about yourself now that you had a nice spectacle? Feel like you got back at me?”

“And a good morning to you, too.”

Angel folded his paper. “I swear to god, I don’t know what has gotten into you lately. What has brought this defiance on?”

“Defiance? You’re joking, right? Did we suddenly move to Stepford? You know what? You’re right. This is all my fault. I never should have married you. But what the hell did I know? I was young and inexperienced. I thought it was romantic that you just wanted to cuddle and never pushed me for sex. It’s my fault for not realizing you are frigid and incapable of sex. I’ve never even heard of such a thing in a man!”

“I’m not fucking frigid. I just don’t like the idea of sleeping with a nymphomaniac. You just can’t keep it up for me, I guess. God, let’s just give it a rest.”

Buffy started laughing, and edge of hysteria evident. “Angel, can’can’t be a nympho when you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve had sex in two years. I swear to god, just tell me you’re gay. I promise, I’ll be okay with that. At least it would explain why you can’t bring yourself to touch me. Babe? I’ve checked. I know you aren’t sleeping with anyone else. I just don’t get what is happening to you. To be honest, I don’t think I care anymore.”

She pushed away from the table and made to leave the room when she felt his hand clamp down painfully on her arm. “Don’t you ever say that to me again, you bitch. Why don’t you go talk to someone - see if they can’t give you a pill to get you to calm the fuck down.” He threw her arm away from her.

“You either figure out how to get happy, or you are going to be in a world of hurt. No wife of mine is going to behave the way you have been. I have to fly out to New York in a few hours, and I’ll be back tomorrow. I had better hear that you’ve set whatever appointment with whatever doctor you need to get your shit straight. I’m not putting up with you anymore.”

He picked his paper back up, opened it and was lost. Clearly Buffy had been dismissed from the room. She decided that a jog would be the best way to burn off her anger. Maybe she’d run past a kickboxing studio...

As she changed into some workout clothes, she heard a honk, Angel grab his bag, and the car pull away. Hearing the sound of the engine fade was therapeutic. She lay back on the bed and sighed her relief. She decided to take a leisurely soak in her tub instead of a hot slog through the neighborhood.

***********

Buffy sat on her back patio with a towel on her head and a book in her hand, reading the same sentence over and over again. She was having a hard time focusing. Her mind kept returning to last night: the fight and humiliation from Angel, the excitement at finding Spike at the club, the way he made her feel. He treated her like she was the most important thing in the world, as if he would die without touching her. He was making her see that she should expect nothing less. She was beginning to feel that way about him, as well. Every thought led to moments she had spent with him. Every decision she faced now held the question of what would he think? She imagined him watching her as she dressed, bathed, went about her daily activities.

She had never imagined such things when she and Angel were dating. They were together on dates, then they were apart at the end of the evening. One day they decided to marry, and she believed the fairy tale had finally come to her life. She’d have a home, a man to love her, children to care for and raise to love their father... *One out of three ain’t bad. No, it’s fucking terrible.* In the beginning there was heat. There were words of passion. She was young and thought thatds wds were truth.

Spike showed her that her body knew certain truths her mind hadn’t learned yet. Thinking of him made her ache. Being with him was like her body and soul were on fire. She felt beautiful, smart, sexy and desirable. With Angel she felt like a nothing and a failure, scrambling for any praise she thought she wanted. She knew better now.

The doorbell ringing brought her out of her thoughts. She whipped the towel off her head, gave her damp hair a shake and ran to the front door.

“Miss me, love? Funny thing, couldn’t stop thinking of you, so - fancied I’d pop by for a visit.”

Her face broke out into a wide grin. “You remembered my address from last night? You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She led him into her home, and went to the kitchen to get him a drink.

“I still have some coffee in here or some juice. I guess 10 AM is a little bit early for our usual.”

“Coffee’ll be fine. Black. Thank you.”

She brought him a cup and set it down in front of him. He reached up and grabbed her by the waist and set her down across his lap. Her hands went immediately to his hair, smoothing it back and enjoying the feel of her fingernails sliding across his skull.

“Mmm. You do spoil a boy, love. Is it alright that I’m here? I figured Nancy Boy’d be gone by now. Off running on his little wheel for the grownups.”

She laughed and told him, “actually, he’ll be gone until tomorrow. Last minute trip. Lucky me, huh?”

“So. How long are you going to make me pretend to want to drink this coffee?”

Buffy grinned and leaned in to kiss her him. He gently held her face in his hands, thumbs tracing the bones of her cheeks, lips sliding over hers with the barest of touches. She felt overwhelmed with feelings for this man who was waking up so many emotions. Her hands slid up his arms, and he wrapped them tightly around her. When their kiss turned more passionate, she pulled away, stood, and took his hand.

They went into her bedroom. The room she tried to make a haven for herself and her husband. The room where he had refused her time and again. Spike pulled his shirt over his head one handed in a fluid motion and immediately began unbuttoning his jeans. Buffy locked eyes with his and pulled off her tank, slid her shorts down. He was treated to a pair of pink lace undies.

Spike climbed on the bed, stopped at her waist and buried his face between her legs. He used one finger to pull at the edge of her panties at her groin and slid his tongue in. Her elbows slid out from under her and she lay back, happy in the skilled hands of her lover.

*************

Angel mentally cursed himself for being so forgetful. *“If I wasn’t constantly having to keep her in fucking line, I would be able to get shit done.* He instructed the cab driver to wait, while he ran in to get files he needed for his presentation. *If I just sneak in, she may not hear me and I don’t have to get into anything with her.*

He quietly opened his door and headed back to his home office. He heard Buffy moan. He stopped in his tracks. *Finally got herself a vibrator? About time.* Then he heard an unmistakably masculine voice, “God, Buffy, I could fuck you all day.”

He heard a roaring building in his ears. With the stealth of a cat he crept up the hallway to peer into his bedroom. He saw some man with platinum blonde hair pounding his wife, who was on all fours, head hanging down, hair spread all over the bed. Their bed. The bed he paid for. The bed in which he took her virginity on their wedding night.

She was obviously having an orgasm and was screaming out, “yes! Oh, god, yes!” and still the asshole didn’t stop. He flipped her onto her back and took one leg and held it high in the air and continued fucking her. Fucking HIS wife. The little slut was going crazy for this on HIS bed. Angel was so angry with the defilement of his property that he wasn’t conscious of the hard on he was now sporting.

He absentmindedly began rubbing the front of his pants and thought, “that fucking bitch. That dirty little whore thinkine cae can bring some fucking asshole into MY home...”

Spike was finally ready to let himself have his own climax. Buffy was in the throes of a new orgasm, her hands clenching the sheets high over her head. Spike was holding her hips off the bed (my FUCKING bed!!!) and was pulling her onto himself, head thrown back with his own cries of satisfaction.

Angel realized he had just come into his pants. *Son of a b-* He walked backwards down the hall, into his office, saw the files he needed, quietly walked out the front door and got in the cab.

“Get me to LAX, fucking now.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BOO-yah, Angel shippers! TBC...