In Dreams
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,134
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,134
Reviews:
1
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.
In Dreams
Title: In Dreams
Rated NC-17
Setting/Spoilers: Early season 7 (while he's in the basement)
Disclaimer: These are Joss' and ME's toys, I just borrowed them.
‘So tired.’ He thought. He was exhausted from the long hours guarding the Hellmouth, feeding only infrequently, helping wherever he could. He did not know how much longer he could go on. Spike huddled in a dark corner, wrapping his arms around his knees. He put his head down, closed his eyes, and began to rock gently back and forth.
When he opened his eyes, he was walking along a beach. The moon was just beginning to rise above the mountains behind him, bathing the entire coastline in a silver glow. There was a small fire burning up ahead. As he approached, he saw Buffy seated next to it, sipping from a glass of red wine and reading from a small volume. As he neared, she whispered, “I hated having to drop out of my poetry class. It always seemed that you could put more meaning in fewer words in a poem than in any other form of communication.”
“Only a good one.” He said, sitting down next to her. The surf lapped calmly at the shore, and beyond the slight crackling of the fire, the night was still. “I never could manage to get the knack of it.” He stared into the fire, then out at the sea, unable to look at her.
“Your talents lie elsewhere. You may be a bad poet, William, but you are a good man.”
He looked up at her now, his heart aching with loneliness and his arms aching to hold her. To hold
her close, protect her, love her: this was all he wanted from life. And it was denied him. He drew
breath quickly, and dropped his face, unable to bear her gaze.
A warm hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up, into her fathomless green eyes. “Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?” She extended her hand to him, and after a second’s hesitation, he took it.
They were no longer on the beach, but in a room. A huge fireplace stood behind Buffy, the heat of the fire surrounding them. Now, she was wearing a simple nightgown of burgundy silk that clung to her figure. She drew him toward her, sighing as his hands came to rest on her waist.
“I love you. I loved you before. I love you now. I will love you forever.” He said, looking at her with
all his emotions written clearly on his face. He slid his hands up her back, drawing her closer to him. “Without you, I am lost.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss her. The kiss began soft, slow, and gentle. Barely a taste of her sweet lips, and he was swooning. Her lips parted, and now her tongue was caressing his lips, delicately sliding into his mouth to taste him. He moaned, and with that encouragement, she pressed against him harder, deepening the kiss. He could feel the buds of her nipples, hard and burning hot, pressed against him. He could smell her arousal, and he trembled at the depth of his own desire for her. He broke off the kiss, and buried his face and hands in her hair, trying to calm the fire raging within him.
He felt her hands slide up his arms and her fingers twined in the soft hairs at the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The silk of her hair caressed his face, and he was entranced with the gentle scent of vanilla and peaches, and underneath that, her own scent. He inhaled again, deeply, drowning in her. ‘She loves you. She wants you.’ A voice said in his head. ‘There is only here. Only now. Take what she offers; give her what she wants.’
“Buffy,” he whispered into her hair, then pulled backto look into her eyes. “Buffy, I…” he began again, trailing off as a flood of words caught in his throat.
She put a finger to his lips, and whispered “Shhh. Tonight, I love you. Tomorrow doesn’t exist.” She reached down and took one of his hands in hers. She brushed it gently up her other arm, to rest it on the strap of her nightgown, then down, taking the strap with it. He stared for a moment at the strap, and her creamy, golden skin, and then looked into her eyes. She met his intense gaze. After a long moment, it was as though the dam gave way, and their lips hungrily collided.
Her hands slid under the waistband of his shirt, and up to his shoulders, trailing fire and dragging the offending cloth away from his abdomen. They broke apart for a moment, and the shirt came off, over his head, rapidly followed by her nightgown pooling around her feet. Then they came together again, lips meeting with bruising force, her breasts like firebrands against his chest. He broke off again, swept his arm down her back and lifted her up. Three steps, and they were beside the large, curtained bed. He laid her down gently, then reached over and released the dark, heavy velvet curtains. As he did, he felt her warm hand on his waistband, tugging on the button of his jeans. As he watched, she grasped the zipper and pulled it down, freeing him. She pushed at his jeans, and they slid from his slim hips with ease. His eyes slid closed, and he threw his head back, moaning, as her soft warm hand returned to his penis, stroking gently.
“Like marble, covered in velvet.” She said. “So beautiful. So perfect. Feels so good. Please…” She looked up at him, her eyes full of desire. Sliding over, she rested her hand on the bed. “Please.”
He lay down on the bed, the deep blue satin sheets sliding coolly under his skin. He took her in his arms and began to kiss her again, slow and deep, pouring all of his emotions into it. She pressed against him, pulling herself close in his arms, her hands trailing fire down his back. As she broke the kiss to gasp for breath against him, his lips trailed down her neck. He felt the heat and rush of her blood so close under her skin, how her pulse hammered beneath his lips. He sank lower, kissing along her collarbone, and then dipped down to kiss one of the nipples that had been burning against his chest. He heard her moan with pleasure as she arched into him, and he began to caress the other. She rocked against him, and his penis slid against her slick, wet upper thighs. As the intense sensations rolled through him, he broke off suckling her breasts with a gasp of pleasure.
His eyes opened, and he found himself staring into her deep green eyes. “I love you, William. Be with me.” She said. Her words washed through him, and the universe dissolved away in that moment. He felt her legs curl around his waist. He raised himself above her, and then sank slowly into her heat. Her eyes slid closed, and she seemed to sigh with relief. When he was in her as deeply as he could, he held still for a moment, and she opened her eyes, and smiled at him.
“You’re home.”
Their rhythm came naturally to him, and she met him for every thrust. As she shuddered and moaned beneath him, he knew she was close, and that he would not be able to hold back much longer. She began to repeat his name, and he suddenly knew there was no more holding back. He cried out her name as he buried himself in her; he felt her cry out with him and her body convulse around him.
He sank down onto the bed, and pulled her close. She smiled up at him, then laid her head on his chest. “Spike”, she said.
He shook his head, and slowly opened his eyes.
“Spike?”
He blinked. He was in the basement, curled next to a wall. Buffy’s hand was on his shoulder, and she was gently shaking him.
“Spike, are you ok? I hate to bug you, but I need your help.”
He smiled shyly at her. She would only ever love him in dreams. But it was enough.
Rated NC-17
Setting/Spoilers: Early season 7 (while he's in the basement)
Disclaimer: These are Joss' and ME's toys, I just borrowed them.
‘So tired.’ He thought. He was exhausted from the long hours guarding the Hellmouth, feeding only infrequently, helping wherever he could. He did not know how much longer he could go on. Spike huddled in a dark corner, wrapping his arms around his knees. He put his head down, closed his eyes, and began to rock gently back and forth.
When he opened his eyes, he was walking along a beach. The moon was just beginning to rise above the mountains behind him, bathing the entire coastline in a silver glow. There was a small fire burning up ahead. As he approached, he saw Buffy seated next to it, sipping from a glass of red wine and reading from a small volume. As he neared, she whispered, “I hated having to drop out of my poetry class. It always seemed that you could put more meaning in fewer words in a poem than in any other form of communication.”
“Only a good one.” He said, sitting down next to her. The surf lapped calmly at the shore, and beyond the slight crackling of the fire, the night was still. “I never could manage to get the knack of it.” He stared into the fire, then out at the sea, unable to look at her.
“Your talents lie elsewhere. You may be a bad poet, William, but you are a good man.”
He looked up at her now, his heart aching with loneliness and his arms aching to hold her. To hold
her close, protect her, love her: this was all he wanted from life. And it was denied him. He drew
breath quickly, and dropped his face, unable to bear her gaze.
A warm hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up, into her fathomless green eyes. “Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?” She extended her hand to him, and after a second’s hesitation, he took it.
They were no longer on the beach, but in a room. A huge fireplace stood behind Buffy, the heat of the fire surrounding them. Now, she was wearing a simple nightgown of burgundy silk that clung to her figure. She drew him toward her, sighing as his hands came to rest on her waist.
“I love you. I loved you before. I love you now. I will love you forever.” He said, looking at her with
all his emotions written clearly on his face. He slid his hands up her back, drawing her closer to him. “Without you, I am lost.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss her. The kiss began soft, slow, and gentle. Barely a taste of her sweet lips, and he was swooning. Her lips parted, and now her tongue was caressing his lips, delicately sliding into his mouth to taste him. He moaned, and with that encouragement, she pressed against him harder, deepening the kiss. He could feel the buds of her nipples, hard and burning hot, pressed against him. He could smell her arousal, and he trembled at the depth of his own desire for her. He broke off the kiss, and buried his face and hands in her hair, trying to calm the fire raging within him.
He felt her hands slide up his arms and her fingers twined in the soft hairs at the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The silk of her hair caressed his face, and he was entranced with the gentle scent of vanilla and peaches, and underneath that, her own scent. He inhaled again, deeply, drowning in her. ‘She loves you. She wants you.’ A voice said in his head. ‘There is only here. Only now. Take what she offers; give her what she wants.’
“Buffy,” he whispered into her hair, then pulled backto look into her eyes. “Buffy, I…” he began again, trailing off as a flood of words caught in his throat.
She put a finger to his lips, and whispered “Shhh. Tonight, I love you. Tomorrow doesn’t exist.” She reached down and took one of his hands in hers. She brushed it gently up her other arm, to rest it on the strap of her nightgown, then down, taking the strap with it. He stared for a moment at the strap, and her creamy, golden skin, and then looked into her eyes. She met his intense gaze. After a long moment, it was as though the dam gave way, and their lips hungrily collided.
Her hands slid under the waistband of his shirt, and up to his shoulders, trailing fire and dragging the offending cloth away from his abdomen. They broke apart for a moment, and the shirt came off, over his head, rapidly followed by her nightgown pooling around her feet. Then they came together again, lips meeting with bruising force, her breasts like firebrands against his chest. He broke off again, swept his arm down her back and lifted her up. Three steps, and they were beside the large, curtained bed. He laid her down gently, then reached over and released the dark, heavy velvet curtains. As he did, he felt her warm hand on his waistband, tugging on the button of his jeans. As he watched, she grasped the zipper and pulled it down, freeing him. She pushed at his jeans, and they slid from his slim hips with ease. His eyes slid closed, and he threw his head back, moaning, as her soft warm hand returned to his penis, stroking gently.
“Like marble, covered in velvet.” She said. “So beautiful. So perfect. Feels so good. Please…” She looked up at him, her eyes full of desire. Sliding over, she rested her hand on the bed. “Please.”
He lay down on the bed, the deep blue satin sheets sliding coolly under his skin. He took her in his arms and began to kiss her again, slow and deep, pouring all of his emotions into it. She pressed against him, pulling herself close in his arms, her hands trailing fire down his back. As she broke the kiss to gasp for breath against him, his lips trailed down her neck. He felt the heat and rush of her blood so close under her skin, how her pulse hammered beneath his lips. He sank lower, kissing along her collarbone, and then dipped down to kiss one of the nipples that had been burning against his chest. He heard her moan with pleasure as she arched into him, and he began to caress the other. She rocked against him, and his penis slid against her slick, wet upper thighs. As the intense sensations rolled through him, he broke off suckling her breasts with a gasp of pleasure.
His eyes opened, and he found himself staring into her deep green eyes. “I love you, William. Be with me.” She said. Her words washed through him, and the universe dissolved away in that moment. He felt her legs curl around his waist. He raised himself above her, and then sank slowly into her heat. Her eyes slid closed, and she seemed to sigh with relief. When he was in her as deeply as he could, he held still for a moment, and she opened her eyes, and smiled at him.
“You’re home.”
Their rhythm came naturally to him, and she met him for every thrust. As she shuddered and moaned beneath him, he knew she was close, and that he would not be able to hold back much longer. She began to repeat his name, and he suddenly knew there was no more holding back. He cried out her name as he buried himself in her; he felt her cry out with him and her body convulse around him.
He sank down onto the bed, and pulled her close. She smiled up at him, then laid her head on his chest. “Spike”, she said.
He shook his head, and slowly opened his eyes.
“Spike?”
He blinked. He was in the basement, curled next to a wall. Buffy’s hand was on his shoulder, and she was gently shaking him.
“Spike, are you ok? I hate to bug you, but I need your help.”
He smiled shyly at her. She would only ever love him in dreams. But it was enough.