Shot in the Dark
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
46
Views:
2,182
Reviews:
62
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
46
Views:
2,182
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 10: Hunger
* * * * *
Chapter 10: Hunger
* * * * *
A low rumble disturbs the quiet of the room. Moaning, Buffy wakes up and puts her hand on her stomach.
“Luv, was that your stomach?” Spike lifts his head, expression caught between wonder and amusement.
“Yeah, so? I’m a growing girl. And I’m hungry.” She pokes Spike in the chest as she scrambles off the couch and him.
With her weight off him, he sits up on his elbow, eyebrow raised. “Where are you going? You were keeping me warm.”
“Nice try, Spike. You don’t need to be kept warm.” Buffy puts one hand on her hip, giving Spike a look .
“Alright, not the point. But you’re all soft...and bloody cute when you sleep...”
Buffy smiles but his attempt fails. “Again with the nice try, Spike, but I need to eat. Food, I need food. You’ve heard of it, right? A girl cannot live on lov-... sex alone. Cannot live on sex.”
Spike purses his lip, halfway to a pout. “Could try.”
She leans back down, bites his bottom lip as she smiles at him. “Come, keep me company. Are you...hungry?” She can’t even bear the thought of him being in a different room from her.
His eyes meet hers sharply but he shakes his head. “No, pet, I’m alright.”
“ ‘Cause I’ve got blood in the fridge, if you need it.”
“Wha-?” For one of the few times in his undead existence, Spike is nearly speechless.
Buffy hesitates, feeling rather uncomfortable at his staring. “It’s for emergencies. A good Slayer is prepared for every eventuality. Even sexy, hungry vampires.” She winks at Spike and wraps the discarded towel around herself. As she disappears into the kitchen, Spike slumps back onto the coach, absorbing the last few minutes. He supposes she got in the habit when Angel was here. But still, somehow, whether she meant it or not, he is touched. And hey, she called him sexy. He grins and with a bow to modesty, wraps himself back up in his towel.
Spike walks into the kitchen and is greeted by the terrycloth-covered bottom of his favorite Slayer as she fishes around in the fridge for lunch. Slipping silently up behind, he presses against her and grabs her waist. She squeals in surprise and accidentally tosses a yogurt straight up in the air. With the grace he’s developed over a hundred years and his inherent speed, Spike snatches it out of the air and sets it on the counter.
“Buffy, you could just hand those things to me. You throw food like that and you’re bound to make a mess.”
Still breathing hard, Buffy turns on him. “Oooh, you. Don’t scare me!” She playfully slaps him on his bare chest. Her brain churns, wondering at how she and Spike can play when they are supposed to dislike each other so. But just being with him for the last twelve hours has done something to her. And more than just make her so sore she walks gingerly. She has started to appreciate his personality like she never let herself before. Still, she’s supposed to want him dusty, not learn to like his finer points. Argh. And now, she finds that she hasn’t take her hand off his chest where she slapped him. The heat is building between them. Again. She pulls the hand back as if burned, turning back to the fridge. Her stomach demands that she hold back her urges for at least a few minutes. Spike steps back, leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, enjoying the show. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, wavy and tousled from air-drying while they christened the couch. She is soft around the edges, not the hard Slayer she can be. The towel covers her from breasts to thighs, he knows every inch hidden beneath the soft white towel. Spike is having an increasingly difficult time not getting up and throwing her against the nearest available hard surface for a shag. As Buffy continues to rummage through the fridge, he begins to assess the kitchen for ravaging potential, his mind working overtime. Countertop...about the right height for her to sit on. Fridge...would work though they would likely knock off the magnets and to do lists. Island...a bit high unless they got all the way on top. His eyes flick to the tile floor...cold, hard but always effective.
“Spike? Hello?” Startled, he lifts his eyes to see Buffy, arms full of jars and containers, studying him. A flicker of amusement in her eyes makes him wonder if his intentions are that obvious. They would only be if she was thinking the same thing.
“Oh, uh, let me help you.“ He starts to get up, but she leans on the counter, letting it all spill out onto the island. “Bloody hell, pet. You weren’t kidding about being hungry.” Spike leans out and grabs a jar of mayo before it hits the floor.
“I really wasn’t. I’ve worked up one hell of an appetite. Sure you don‘t want anything?” Buffy smiles as she turns to grab the bread off the counter and a few things from drawers and cabinets around the kitchen.
Spike’s eyes roll to the ceiling. Does he want anything? What kind of question is that? He wants her to forget this eating business and get over here. “Never said that, Slayer.” His words are thick with double meaning.
She laughs. “Anything to eat? Food-wise?” Amazingly, she doesn’t tell him to shut up, like she would have two days ago. Instead, she actually laughs.
He watches her, moving surely and quickly. She makes a ham and cheese sandwich and leans on the counter to eat it. Her position reveals her cleavage and Spike certainly notices. He tries to look away, tries to avoid her eyes, but he can’t. She keeps her eyes locked on his, across the island, as she takes bite after bite. About halfway through her sandwich, she stands up, finally breaking away from his smoldering eyes. Spike’s grip on the counter loosens slightly as he strives to maintain control, trying to let her eat before he feels that warm body in his arms again.
“Mmm, thirsty...let’s see...” After a trip to the fridge and a cabinet, she pours herself a huge glass of milk, then holds it up to Spike, as a toast, “Does a body good!”
“Damn right. Didn’t know I could thank milk for that body.” Spike’s offhand comment makes Buffy almost spit out her milk in the middle of her big gulp. She manages to swallow and set the glass back on the counter. Spike continues to watch her from across the island, face lit up with humor at the effectiveness of his comment.
“Oh crap! How could I forget!” Buffy turns on her heel and starts opening cabinet door muttering to herself. “I sure hope she still keeps some here. Oh c’mon Mom!” She opens more doors ‘til, “Ah-HA! Gotcha!” She spins triumphantly with her prize. A bottle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.
Spike raises his eyebrows but says nothing.
“I just love chocolate milk, can’t believe I almost forgot. Mom always used to make this for me growing up.” Buffy pops the top open with her teeth and starts to pour the syrup into her milk, swirling it around and around. Looking up, she sees Spike eying her with interest. Twisting the bottle, she starts to set it upright. Catching the drip with her index finger, she says to the curious Spike, “Haven’t you ever had this?” She starts to bring her finger to her mouth, but suddenly, Spike is there at her side.
His voice is deeper, husky. “No, let me try it, luv.” He takes her hand, where the syrup is starting to run down her finger. Stretching out his tongue, he catches the chocolate at the base of her finger and slowly, he drags his tongue back up, watching her the whole time. Buffy starts to wonder if it is all of a sudden very much too hot in the kitchen. Reaching her fingertip, Spike takes her whole finger into his mouth. She can feel his tongue washing her clean, getting every last drop of chocolate. Finally, he reluctantly pulls her finger from his mouth and lets her have her hand back.
“Delicious.” His voice is warm, vibrating with lust. His eye her hers make it hard to concentrate and she’s not altogether sure if he’s referring to the chocolate.
Feeling her face beginning to flush, she takes his hand in hers. “Isn’t it, though?” Upending the bottle, she pours a long stripe across the palm off his hand. He groans as her warm, pink tongue drags across, carefully licking up the syrup. She wets her top lip with her tongue afterwards, looking at him through her lashes. “You were right. Very tasty.”
Suddenly, Spike’s hand goes to the back of her head and pulls her in for a bruising kiss. He tastes the chocolate still on her tongue and presses harder, his tongue going to meet hers. Finally, she pulls away, slightly breathless.
“So, what did you decide, countertop or floor?” Her eyes gleam with mischief as Spike realizes his earlier thoughts were truly transparent. A slow grin stretches across his face, matching hers. That’s his girl.
“Lady’s choice.”
Chapter 10: Hunger
* * * * *
A low rumble disturbs the quiet of the room. Moaning, Buffy wakes up and puts her hand on her stomach.
“Luv, was that your stomach?” Spike lifts his head, expression caught between wonder and amusement.
“Yeah, so? I’m a growing girl. And I’m hungry.” She pokes Spike in the chest as she scrambles off the couch and him.
With her weight off him, he sits up on his elbow, eyebrow raised. “Where are you going? You were keeping me warm.”
“Nice try, Spike. You don’t need to be kept warm.” Buffy puts one hand on her hip, giving Spike a look .
“Alright, not the point. But you’re all soft...and bloody cute when you sleep...”
Buffy smiles but his attempt fails. “Again with the nice try, Spike, but I need to eat. Food, I need food. You’ve heard of it, right? A girl cannot live on lov-... sex alone. Cannot live on sex.”
Spike purses his lip, halfway to a pout. “Could try.”
She leans back down, bites his bottom lip as she smiles at him. “Come, keep me company. Are you...hungry?” She can’t even bear the thought of him being in a different room from her.
His eyes meet hers sharply but he shakes his head. “No, pet, I’m alright.”
“ ‘Cause I’ve got blood in the fridge, if you need it.”
“Wha-?” For one of the few times in his undead existence, Spike is nearly speechless.
Buffy hesitates, feeling rather uncomfortable at his staring. “It’s for emergencies. A good Slayer is prepared for every eventuality. Even sexy, hungry vampires.” She winks at Spike and wraps the discarded towel around herself. As she disappears into the kitchen, Spike slumps back onto the coach, absorbing the last few minutes. He supposes she got in the habit when Angel was here. But still, somehow, whether she meant it or not, he is touched. And hey, she called him sexy. He grins and with a bow to modesty, wraps himself back up in his towel.
Spike walks into the kitchen and is greeted by the terrycloth-covered bottom of his favorite Slayer as she fishes around in the fridge for lunch. Slipping silently up behind, he presses against her and grabs her waist. She squeals in surprise and accidentally tosses a yogurt straight up in the air. With the grace he’s developed over a hundred years and his inherent speed, Spike snatches it out of the air and sets it on the counter.
“Buffy, you could just hand those things to me. You throw food like that and you’re bound to make a mess.”
Still breathing hard, Buffy turns on him. “Oooh, you. Don’t scare me!” She playfully slaps him on his bare chest. Her brain churns, wondering at how she and Spike can play when they are supposed to dislike each other so. But just being with him for the last twelve hours has done something to her. And more than just make her so sore she walks gingerly. She has started to appreciate his personality like she never let herself before. Still, she’s supposed to want him dusty, not learn to like his finer points. Argh. And now, she finds that she hasn’t take her hand off his chest where she slapped him. The heat is building between them. Again. She pulls the hand back as if burned, turning back to the fridge. Her stomach demands that she hold back her urges for at least a few minutes. Spike steps back, leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, enjoying the show. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, wavy and tousled from air-drying while they christened the couch. She is soft around the edges, not the hard Slayer she can be. The towel covers her from breasts to thighs, he knows every inch hidden beneath the soft white towel. Spike is having an increasingly difficult time not getting up and throwing her against the nearest available hard surface for a shag. As Buffy continues to rummage through the fridge, he begins to assess the kitchen for ravaging potential, his mind working overtime. Countertop...about the right height for her to sit on. Fridge...would work though they would likely knock off the magnets and to do lists. Island...a bit high unless they got all the way on top. His eyes flick to the tile floor...cold, hard but always effective.
“Spike? Hello?” Startled, he lifts his eyes to see Buffy, arms full of jars and containers, studying him. A flicker of amusement in her eyes makes him wonder if his intentions are that obvious. They would only be if she was thinking the same thing.
“Oh, uh, let me help you.“ He starts to get up, but she leans on the counter, letting it all spill out onto the island. “Bloody hell, pet. You weren’t kidding about being hungry.” Spike leans out and grabs a jar of mayo before it hits the floor.
“I really wasn’t. I’ve worked up one hell of an appetite. Sure you don‘t want anything?” Buffy smiles as she turns to grab the bread off the counter and a few things from drawers and cabinets around the kitchen.
Spike’s eyes roll to the ceiling. Does he want anything? What kind of question is that? He wants her to forget this eating business and get over here. “Never said that, Slayer.” His words are thick with double meaning.
She laughs. “Anything to eat? Food-wise?” Amazingly, she doesn’t tell him to shut up, like she would have two days ago. Instead, she actually laughs.
He watches her, moving surely and quickly. She makes a ham and cheese sandwich and leans on the counter to eat it. Her position reveals her cleavage and Spike certainly notices. He tries to look away, tries to avoid her eyes, but he can’t. She keeps her eyes locked on his, across the island, as she takes bite after bite. About halfway through her sandwich, she stands up, finally breaking away from his smoldering eyes. Spike’s grip on the counter loosens slightly as he strives to maintain control, trying to let her eat before he feels that warm body in his arms again.
“Mmm, thirsty...let’s see...” After a trip to the fridge and a cabinet, she pours herself a huge glass of milk, then holds it up to Spike, as a toast, “Does a body good!”
“Damn right. Didn’t know I could thank milk for that body.” Spike’s offhand comment makes Buffy almost spit out her milk in the middle of her big gulp. She manages to swallow and set the glass back on the counter. Spike continues to watch her from across the island, face lit up with humor at the effectiveness of his comment.
“Oh crap! How could I forget!” Buffy turns on her heel and starts opening cabinet door muttering to herself. “I sure hope she still keeps some here. Oh c’mon Mom!” She opens more doors ‘til, “Ah-HA! Gotcha!” She spins triumphantly with her prize. A bottle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.
Spike raises his eyebrows but says nothing.
“I just love chocolate milk, can’t believe I almost forgot. Mom always used to make this for me growing up.” Buffy pops the top open with her teeth and starts to pour the syrup into her milk, swirling it around and around. Looking up, she sees Spike eying her with interest. Twisting the bottle, she starts to set it upright. Catching the drip with her index finger, she says to the curious Spike, “Haven’t you ever had this?” She starts to bring her finger to her mouth, but suddenly, Spike is there at her side.
His voice is deeper, husky. “No, let me try it, luv.” He takes her hand, where the syrup is starting to run down her finger. Stretching out his tongue, he catches the chocolate at the base of her finger and slowly, he drags his tongue back up, watching her the whole time. Buffy starts to wonder if it is all of a sudden very much too hot in the kitchen. Reaching her fingertip, Spike takes her whole finger into his mouth. She can feel his tongue washing her clean, getting every last drop of chocolate. Finally, he reluctantly pulls her finger from his mouth and lets her have her hand back.
“Delicious.” His voice is warm, vibrating with lust. His eye her hers make it hard to concentrate and she’s not altogether sure if he’s referring to the chocolate.
Feeling her face beginning to flush, she takes his hand in hers. “Isn’t it, though?” Upending the bottle, she pours a long stripe across the palm off his hand. He groans as her warm, pink tongue drags across, carefully licking up the syrup. She wets her top lip with her tongue afterwards, looking at him through her lashes. “You were right. Very tasty.”
Suddenly, Spike’s hand goes to the back of her head and pulls her in for a bruising kiss. He tastes the chocolate still on her tongue and presses harder, his tongue going to meet hers. Finally, she pulls away, slightly breathless.
“So, what did you decide, countertop or floor?” Her eyes gleam with mischief as Spike realizes his earlier thoughts were truly transparent. A slow grin stretches across his face, matching hers. That’s his girl.
“Lady’s choice.”