Spike buried his face in a cool Buffy-scented pillow and pouted sleepily. For the first time for ages he had woken up alone.
He didn’t like it.
He had quickly become accustomed to waking up wrapped around his warm, sweet-smelling Slayer. They were frequently so tangled together that he would wake and find his ever present erection embedded deep within her molten core, their bodies pressed so close that her strong steady heartbeat resounded through him as if it were his own. Even if they hadn’t gone to sleep in that position, which wasn’t uncommon when they wore each other out making love, it seemed that even as they slept their bodies instinctively sought to be as closely connected as possible.
The first time it had happened they had each jokingly accused the other of taking unfair advantage, but the half-hearted argument dissolved during the following very pleasurable hour. After the third time they began to accept it wasn’t a random fluke. They decided that they didn’t think it was about a desperate need for more sex. After all, that part of their relationship was supremely fulfilling, ranging as it did from spontaneous super-powered sex that left them both with scrapes and bruises and torn clothing to hours of slow tender lovemaking through the night.
They eventually came to the conclusion that it was probably about an instinctive subconscious need for reassurance of their Mate’s presence. They both admitted that it was only when they were physically joined that they felt complete fulfilment, and while the situation may not start out in a sexual context if either of them should choose to capitalise upon their position upon waking… well, that was always fun too.
After their return from the demon dimension their odd little family had gradually settled into a comfortable routine. On weekdays Buffy got up to her alarm to make sure Dawn set out for school promptly with a suitable lunch, then after seeing her off with either Xander or Giles to give her a lift to school she would come back to bed and they would sleep until lunchtime when they got up to face another day.
Buffy would then either go for a long run or see to chores and errands and then meet Giles at the Magic Box for a training session before collecting Dawn from school. While she was out Spike worked out in the basement that had been equipped with mats, a punching bag and a weight bench, or relaxed with one of his books. He missed the TV a bit but a replacement for the one damaged by Willow’s runaway magic was due to be delivered with the rest of the furniture Buffy had ordered and he was resigned to waiting until then.
A couple of times Spike had dropped into the Magic Box with the emerald sword while Buffy was out on her run to take a lesson in swordsmanship from Giles. The long two-handed sword was not his preferred weapon of choice. Being of slight build he generally selected the lighter sabre. Even though he had the uncanny feeling that when in battle with the magical sword it was the sword itself that was doing the fighting, the basic points of technique the Watcher tutored him in gave him added confidence.
He had quickly discovered that he had to keep fully occupied while he was apart from Buffy or he would begin to monitor her emotions too closely and start to obsess about what she might be doing. He had found out that she didn’t like him quizzing her about her movements, telling him she had to have some privacy or she’d go mad.
The jealous doubts brought on by the original flawed Claim had disappeared leaving them both very comfortable in their relationship, the reason for his obsession was that he was still becoming accustomed to the full rich variety of human emotions she felt and he was trying to link them to specific triggers to make sense of them.
After a few days he and Buffy had stopped sparring together in the back room at the shop. Their play fighting had been great fun and a valuable training experience for Buffy but it had almost immediately developed the tendency to degenerate into something a bit less Slayerish and a bit more naked.
After the second time an excruciatingly embarrassed Giles had walked in on them, this time after a hand-to-hand session had turned into a free-for-all wrestling match which involved the removal of various articles of clothing ending with Buffy on all fours on the training mat with Spike pounding into her from behind as she hoarsely urged him on, he had banned their joint sessions.
When they had rather sheepishly emerged into the front of the shop he had exasperatedly told them that if all their sparring practices were going to turn into ‘shagging marathons’ they should go and find a deserted field or disused warehouse to cavort in instead. The training room ‘wasn’t an appropriate location for them to indulge their sexual impulses’.
His rant had been brought up short by Buffy. She had defended herself by saying self-righteously, “Giles, I’m sorry you were embarrassed but if you’re going to give me a lecture about inappropriate locations for sex, you don’t have a leg to stand on. I have two words for you. Police Car.” And with that she had taken an intrigued Spike by the hand and calmly swept out into the night leaving her blushing Watcher spluttering ineffectually behind them as he frantically polished his spectacles.
Buffy had related the story of the Band Candy on the way home causing Spike to laugh uproariously and wish he’d been in town at the time to see the fun. Buffy had petulantly protested that in light of his own antics Giles’s reaction to their activities was unfair. Even so she hadn’t been able to look her Watcher in the eye for days, and still blushed crimson every time she entered the training room with him.
Spike was seriously considering the various intriguing possibilities raised by his excellent suggestion.
Early evenings would be spent as a family with Dawn, and Tara too if she wasn’t at an evening class or study group. Both girls were working hard to catch up on missed assignments as the end of the spring semester approached so Spike was frequently roped in as chief cook, while Buffy took care of most of the other household chores.
Every night after Dawn had gone to bed there was the routine patrol.
Sometimes they would patrol together, at other times one of them would go solo, leaving the other on guard if Dawn would otherwise be left home alone. They would both occasionally take Nathan with them him to try to make him feel more useful and to help give him a reason to stick to his new ‘vegetarian’ lifestyle, but they were coming to accept that the unusually timid vampire’s fighting skills were sadly lacking and he would quite possibly never be an asset in battle.
On weekends, particularly Saturday evenings which the local vamps seemed to consider party night, Buffy and Spike would go out early and take Dawn along on bait duty, trailing far enough behind her to give potential attackers the impression that she was walking alone, but close enough to reach her side in seconds if she was threatened.
The teenager was thrilled to be treated like a real Scooby, even if that meant taking the role that in high school had so frequently been allotted to Cordelia and experiencing more long boring walks when absolutely nothing happened than she had anticipated. She was also becoming a lot more self-assured and distinctly less coltishly clumsy in her movements as a result of her self-defence classes which were progressing well.
After a few minutes of sulking, Spike’s stomach rumbled insistently and he realised that as much as he wished otherwise Buffy wasn’t going to come back to bed for a cuddle. Sensing that she was eating and also fully occupied by something else he decided that might as well go downstairs and get himself some breakfast too.
He had reached the half landing before he became awake enough to realise he was still naked, and in resignation he turned back to grab the midnight blue silk robe Buffy had presented him with after The Bathroom Incident.
The agonised look on Buffy’s face when she had dashed into the bathroom to see what was wrong upon hearing twin shrill cries when he and Tara had startled each other was something that he would never forget and had no wish to see again, so he readily agreed there would be no more wandering around the house in the nude.
He still hadn’t quite grasped what the drama was all about. It wasn’t as if Dawn had been around to be traumatised, because if she had been at home he would have pulled his jeans on before leaving the bedroom.
Besides, Tara hadn’t appeared to be unduly upset. In fact once she’d recovered from her initial shock and grabbed a towel to cover herself, her raised eyebrow and lopsided little smirk as she had taken in his naked form had displayed more amused appreciation than anything else, despite the furious blush that had covered her entire lush body.
If nothing else it had ensured that in the future they would both always remember to lock both of the bathroom doors when preparing to take a shower.
As he rounded the foot of the stairs he heard the microwave ping and the rustle of fabric as Buffy moved. He paused in the kitchen doorway and leaned a shoulder against the frame with his arms folded across his chest to watch her as she resettled herself on a stool at the island and picked up a pencil in one hand and her mug in the other. He tested the air to discover that this time she’d chosen the lemon and mango tea.
She was concentrating on the newspaper spread out in front of her as she sipped her drink, the remnants of a scratch meal scattered all around. The blind was set to allow only indirect sunlight into the room and it bathed her in warm golden light that glinted off the thick silver embroidery on the short turquoise kimono she’d recently taken to using as a robe.
As she reached to make a note of something in the paper the silk slipped to reveal an expanse of toned tanned thigh and Spike smiled and sighed in appreciation. Still tousled from sleep and lacking any of the artificial beauty aids she seemed to consider essential she obviously had no idea how artlessly beautiful she was. He was fully aware that he didn’t deserve her, how had he ever got this lucky?
Buffy turned and looked up at him and smiled. “Morning.” She frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”
Jolted out of his appreciative trance, Spike grumbled, “Woke up alone.”
Buffy gestured apologetically at the debris left from her sandwich making. “I was hungry.”
Spike’s stomach took its cue and rumbled loudly, prompting them both to chuckle.
Buffy reached out and tapped her pencil against the second mug on the counter to draw his attention to it even as her glance slid down from his face. Her eyes widened as she took in the broad expanse of smooth pale skin exposed by the gaping robe that Spike hadn’t bothered to belt, until they fixed upon his groin and she licked her lips. Spike looked down to discover that he was unconsciously cradling his erection and squeezing gently in time to her heartbeat.
Buffy’s mouth twitched into a naughty smile. “Did Son of Spike want a cuddle?”
Stepping forward to caress her hair, kiss her temple and press himself against her side he huskily murmured, “Always needs you, sweetheart. Needs your warmth.”
Buffy hooked a foot around the second stool and pulled it closer, gently pushing Spike down to sit on it. She fondly suggested, “Drink your breakfast, I think half the hunger I’ve been feeling is yours anyway.”
As he sat and reached for the black mug with ‘BITE ME’ in red written on one side and a pair of improbably long fangs dripping with blood on the other side she absently stroked his thigh, her main attention turning back to her daily ritual of checking the obits section of the paper.
He gulped down the warm blood quickly, grimacing at the flavour, then pinched a slice of the pear left unattended on the plate in front of Buffy. As he chewed the cool juicy fruit he looked down in delighted surprise to where her hand had travelled up his thigh until it was caressing the column of flesh that was reaching blindly for her touch.
Hesitantly he lightly touched her arm and said, “Er, Buffy…”
Noticing what she was doing Buffy flushed slightly then looked up into his eyes. Reading his need she softly asked, “Did you want in?”
Letting out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding he said deliberately, “Every second of every day.”
Her scent instantly shifted subtly and he knew that her body had instinctively prepared itself to welcome his intrusion. It was miraculous really; this element of their Bond that meant that every time he felt the need for her, her body was immediately prepared for him. He idly wondered whether her desire would have the same effect on him if he wasn’t permanently ready anyway because of his daily infusions of her powerful blood.
Sensing her consent, with no further discussion Spike grasped her waist. As he lifted her Buffy reached between her legs to guide him into her waiting heat as he lowered her onto his lap, prompting matched sighs of satisfaction.
After taking a few seconds to adjust her position comfortably Buffy fondly wove the fingers of her left hand through those splayed across her belly and between sips of tea went back to noting the potentially demon-related deaths she would have to investigate.
While she worked Spike rested his cheek against her back and cradled her against him. He was warm and loved and… connected. He gradually zoned out.
Buffy sat up to fold the paper up, babbling about giving Xander morgue duty while they were out that night meeting Old Perpalla, and as she moved her inner muscles clenched around him making him gasp. Then she leant forward, shifting her position again and resting her elbow on the counter as she toyed with the remaining portions of pear, slowly eating them one by one as she pondered aloud what kind of revelations they might expect.
Spike came out of his half-doze in which he wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what she was saying to become aware that she had parted her legs further and a warm hand was now fondling the base of his shaft where it disappeared into her body, and the heavy twin globes beneath.
Abruptly his need went from comfort/reassurance to outright lust. His grip upon her belly and hip tightened and he began gently rocking his pelvis in an attempt to generate some friction as he murmured appreciative words in response to Buffy’s ministrations.
He spread his knees, hooking Buffy’s legs wide open to give her better access and was getting increasingly aroused, one hand sliding inside the kimono to toy with a warm breast while the other followed hers to where they were joined to tease her moist folds, and his unneeded breath was coming in pants timed to coincide with Buffy’s little mewls and whimpers as she began tensing and relaxing her leg muscles to ease herself up and down on him… when the phone rang.
Spike ignored the shrill sound, but on the third ring Buffy made an impatient little noise and suddenly his lap was empty and his erection, slick with Buffy’s secretions, was left aimlessly searching for her heat.
He sat motionless for several seconds, mouth agape, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then frustration kicked in and he muttered irritably, “Now that’s just soddin’ unacceptable!”
He hopped down off his stool and followed her into the living room where she was standing speaking into the phone. Coming up behind her he nudged her legs apart with his knee, slid the kimono out of the way with one hand, grasped her hip and guided himself back into her.
Ignoring her startled squeak and batting hand he began slowly sliding in and out. After only a few seconds she stopped struggling and braced herself against the wall. Her verbal responses were punctuated with little gasps and grunts as she tried to hold a conversation despite the very effective distraction Spike was providing.
After a few minutes she clutched Spike’s hip with her spare hand to make him stop moving as she raised her voice and impatiently exclaimed, “Look, I ordered the chocolate. If I’d wanted the light tan I would have ordered the light tan. I still want the chocolate. If I have to wait longer than the delivery date you gave me I’ll expect a discount for my inconvenience.” She hung up abruptly and sighed crossly, releasing her hold on Spike.
After he’d made a couple more long thrusts Buffy huffed and bent sharply at the waist to shove him backwards, causing him to become dislodged and stagger a few steps into the room. She turned and stalked towards him, eyes narrowed, prodding him in the centre of his chest with one hard forefinger to keep him off balance and backing away as she spoke. “I can’t believe you did that!” {prod} “You are such a pig, Spike!” {prod} “I was talking to the furniture store there,” {prod} “and you deliberately tried to distract me!” {prod} “It’ll be your fault if they send the chesterfields in that insipid light tan instead of the lovely rich chocolate brown we picked.” {prod}
As he tripped over one of the beanbags, landing splayed across two of them, Spike scowled up at her flushed face and angrily retorted, “Well I can’t believe you’d jump off me while we were making love just to run and answer the soddin’ phone! You should’a let the machine take it!” He smirked wickedly and pointed an accusing finger at her as he added, “And another thing, Missy. I’ve recently learned you actually like pigs.” Running a hand sensually down his chest and stomach to cradle his waiting erection he cocked his head to one side and one eyebrow went up as he leered. “Not so sure I appreciate being likened to a soft toy though.”
Buffy’s ire dissolved in a reluctant giggle. “Don’t talk about Mr Gordo like that, it’s just… disturbing.” She took in his provocative pose then licking her lips she sashayed towards him, loosening the sash of her kimono so that it fell open revealing that she wore nothing beneath it.
She stepped astride him, gently moving his hand out of the way so that she could slowly impale herself upon his eager flesh. Expecting her to begin to ride him, Spike grinned and clutched at her hips, settling himself more comfortably on the beanbags in readiness.
Buffy, however had other plans. She rested her palms on his stomach then slowly slid them up his chest as she relaxed and stretched out upon him until her fingers twined in his hair and they was lying nose to nose.
Then she kissed him.
It wasn’t an eager passionate kiss, it was a tender teasing kiss as she used her lips and tongue and teeth to tantalise him. As one hand continued to toy with his hair and lightly scratch his scalp the other cupped his cheek and stroked his forehead and gently scraped over her mark.
Spike threaded his fingers through her hair to hold it out of their faces as he cupped the back of her head and enthusiastically returned the kiss.
When she needed to raise her mouth from his to breathe she nipped and kissed along his jawline and down his throat until his attention was utterly focussed upon his mouth and neck rather than his groin.
After a while she lifted her head, her eyes bright and lips kiss-swollen as she stroked his forehead and murmured, “Change.”
Spike raised an eyebrow in question and Buffy nodded in confirmation, whispering “I wanna try something.” So Spike allowed his inner demon to emerge and there was the familiar quiet crunching sound as the bones in his face shifted and rearranged themselves and his fangs descended.
Buffy bent her head to continue the kiss, beginning cautiously until she had re-familiarised herself with the altered contours of his jaws and teeth. Then Spike groaned as she started caressing his sensitive fangs with her tongue and nipping at his lips. His eyes rolled back in his head and he lay passive as his Mate petted and pampered him, every stroke of her tongue nip of her teeth and brush of her fingers sending flashes of pleasure straight to where she was pulsating around him, reminding him that they were still intimately joined.
The kiss continued, sending Spike into a haze of sensory overload from which he was only disturbed when Buffy tensed up and began to writhe on top of him as if in discomfort. Recovering his wits somewhat Spike heard a deep rumbling and realised that he was purring like a motorbike doing 120 down the freeway.
Coming to an amused understanding of Buffy’s predicament Spike suppressed a chuckle, stroked down her flanks until he could reach to pull her thighs just a little bit further apart, gripped her hips, tilted his pelvis at a precise angle and pressed her down to crush their groins together.
With the vibrations caused by his purr now reaching exactly the right spot Buffy stopped wriggling and relaxed, concentrating even harder on her attentions to Spike’s mouth. Now though, her kisses were punctuated by little moans and whimpers and gasped words.
“Oh yeah… love you… can’t get enough of you… my very own sexy vamp… God, that purring… gets to me every time… Oh God… yeah… feels so good…”
Spike lay passively, revelling in the loving attention, one hand returning to weave in Buffy’s hair the other remaining to cup her bottom to keep full contact between the base of his vibrating erection and the bundle of sensitive nerves at Buffy’s centre benefiting from the sensations.
His inner demon graciously submitted to the attention he considered his rightful due from his Mate, although he was tempted to take control of the mating and exert his dominance. Very tempted to sink his fangs into her throat and drink his fill of the sweet ambrosia of her potent blood as he rammed into her over and over. Spike consciously resisted this urge, which wasn’t really all that hard as it turned out, and his purring ratcheted up a notch as those unique Slayer muscles began to play a symphony on him.
The exquisite pressure slowly built up in Spike’s groin, but just as he felt he was about to explode Buffy stopped her internal massage and took her mouth from his to smile mischievously down into his eyes and catch her breath.
He gulped and tried an experimental thrust upwards with his hips coupled with a hesitant, “Buffy… sweetheart… please…”
Buffy breathed, “Shh darling, lie still. Let me…” then silenced him with her mouth and resumed her kisses. She was gentler than before until Spike’s urgent need had subsided slightly, then once more she started teasing and tantalising him.
Between kisses he managed to gasp out, “You know by denying me you’re also denying yourself, don’t you Buffy?”
Buffy chuckled throatily. “What was it you told me once? ‘Anticipation is half the pleasure’? You know you’re loving it…” She went through the process several more times, bringing him to the brink and then pausing for him to subside again until Spike was ready to scream from frustration. In a flash of inspiration, the next time he felt his climax approaching instead of giving in to that impulse he deliberately converted his contented purr to a lusty growl.
Almost immediately Buffy’s loving murmurings started to become incoherent as her excitement mounted. “Oh… Oh God… Spike… yeah baby… just like… Oh God… Spike… Oh my Big Bad… Yes! Yes! Yes Spike!”
He felt her begin to quiver and convulse around him and her whole body tensed up as she slid into an unexpected orgasm. Spike delightedly gazed up at her as she arched her back, threw her head back and closed her eyes in rapture. Her face neck and breasts became suffused with a rosy blush and her sharp fingernails dug into his shoulders to give him just the right amount of pain to tip him over the edge with her. He exploded with a hoarse cry, his arms wrapping tightly around her slender form to crush her to his chest as he fought the urge to bury his fangs in her exposed throat and as a precaution forced his demon down to revert to his human face.
As she came down Buffy relaxed back onto his chest and rested her forehead on his, panting into his mouth. Spike stroked her back and bottom as he rocked his hips gently to keep the pleasure going as long as he could.
Once she’d got her breath back, Buffy raised her head to look down at him and traced his lips with one forefinger, which Spike immediately sucked into his mouth and nibbled. She caressed his upper gum, finding and teasing the tiny slits from which his fangs emerged.
“Something told me you’d like that… in the forest when you were all demony and I was all Slayery I could tell you loved the way I played with your fangs. I wanted to see what I had to do to get you purring too… can’t get enough of that growlyvamp purring… but mainly… it’s just that I love the way you kiss. I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing but kissing you.” She chewed her bottom lip nervously and then murmured, “I once told Angel that when he kissed me I wanted to die…”
Spike tensed up and clenched his jaw angrily, growling, “Not really appreciating you mentioning your poofy former while we’re…” He bucked his hips slightly to emphasise their position.
Buffy pressed a silencing finger to his lips and continued, “No listen, Spike. This is important. I was so young, and I felt everything so intensely. It was all a tragic drama and I was so innocent I couldn’t imagine anything better, you know? But with you… when Angel kissed me I felt I wanted to die, but when we kiss… well… it’s your kisses that woke me up and made me want to live again when I came back. It’s your kisses that brought me back from Hell and made me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before. When you’re kissing me I wanna live forever just so we can go on kissing…” She suited her actions to her words as her mouth lowered to claim his once more.
A little while later they were still cuddled up together, Buffy’s face tucked snugly into Spike’s neck where she was alternately kissing and nibbling at her mark. Spike was constantly stroking her back as he lay and luxuriated in this wonderful new feeling of being cherished.
Eventually Buffy stretched, sighed and raised herself off him, allowing his erection to slip from her at last to slap wetly onto his belly. “I can’t stay here all afternoon, Spike, much as I’d like to. I have an appointment to keep and then I have to go for my run.”
Spike stretched and folded his arms behind his head to display his body to best effect. “Sure I can’t get you to change your mind, darlin’?” He tensed his stomach muscles to make his erection jump. Suggestively he murmured, “Sure I can think of more fun things to keep you occupied…” He cocked his head to one side and gestured the length of his body adding, “You do know that this body of mine is all yours to play with, don’t you, Buffy? Anything you want to try… anytime. You only have to say. Doubt if there’s anything you might fancy I’ve not done before, and if you should want something I’ve never tried, well... that’d be even better!”
She raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Anything? Promise?” She sniggered. “I’ll have a think… perhaps I’ll come up with something.” Then she shook her head fondly. “You know there are other fun things to do apart from sex, Spike. Can’t you ever get enough?”
He leered up at her. “Told you earlier, Buffy. I wanna be inside you every second of every day. If I had my way we’d only get dressed and leave the house to go find things to kill… and then I’d still want you every minute between the fights.”
She leant against the phone table, idly caressing her breasts and belly as she frowned down at him. He regarded her appreciatively. Since he’d taken control of her haphazard diet and she’d begun taking a regular run out in the spring sunshine her skin had regained much of the healthy golden glow that had been absent since her return from Heaven. He could no longer make out each individual rib, her breasts were regaining their former fullness, her arms no longer resembled sticks and she had recently begun developing some very feminine curves. She was… sleek was the word that came to mind. Not that he would tell her that, of course, or she’d be on the rice cake and half a lettuce leaf diet before he could turn around.
“Do you think this is normal?”
Spike snorted, “Why d’you keep banging on about normal, Buffy? You know that neither of us is normal!”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean do other Mated couples have as much sex as us? It seems that every time we’re alone together we can’t keep our hands off each other, and half the time we’re with other people we’re just marking time until we can get away and tear each other’s clothes off.”
He shrugged, “Dunno, love. All I know is that I’d rather be making love to you than anything else in the world.” He stood up and approached her, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her hair. “Can’t stop touching you… and don’t really want to.” He rubbed his erection into her belly and was delighted to feel her strong little hand wrap around it and stroke him, setting up a regular pumping rhythm as he moaned and dipped his head to plunder her mouth yet again, sliding two fingers into her sopping channel, still leaking their combined fluids from earlier.
They each expertly drove the other to the peak of ecstasy again, and when Spike erupted between their bodies as Buffy shuddered around Spike’s fingers they sighed in pleasure and held each other close, leaning their full weight on the table until their legs could support them again.
Spike chuckled wickedly, “You are so much more fun now you’ve taken that pole outta your arse, sweetheart.”
Taken aback and slightly offended, Buffy backed away from him and asked, “Huh?”
“Well look at you, woman! You’re standing stark naked in your living room in broad daylight after shagging for hours. You’re covered with my spunk from giving me an impromptu hand job and you’re still raring to go for more! Not so long ago you’d have been horrified at the thought. You’d have covered up that gorgeous body and run shrieking in disgust to wash all trace of me away!”
Flushing as she realised that it was true, Buffy looked up at him in contemplation. “It must be the Bond again.” She sniggered. “You’ve infected me with your vampire lack of inhibitions and insatiable appetite for sex…”
Grinning excitedly, Spike exclaimed. “D’you really think so? That’s bloody brilliant!”
She looked thoughtful for a few moments then added, “And do you realise you’ve practically given up smoking? And you haven’t gotten drunk once since our Eternal Claim.”
Spike shrugged bashfully. “Well… with your new sense of smell the Bond makes it clear how much you hate the smell of my fags.” He gestured at the dainty little vase of freesias on the table that was sweetly masking the faint smell of varnish lingering from when Xander had fixed the windows and floor. “Noticed you found a gentler solution than those nasty chemical air fresheners too. As for getting drunk, I don’t seem to feel the need any more. Got far more enjoyable ways of passing the time.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he cupped her sticky breasts. “Fancy another go then?”
Firmly pushing him away she laughingly protested, “Later! I have to go wash up so I can keep my appointment in town, and I wanna extend my run now I’m getting back into it. Five miles doesn’t seem to stretch me any more. You know you wanna do your workout too…”
Spike leered and curled his tongue behind his teeth as he ran a hand down his body, tracing the defined planes of his chest and stomach. “Yeah… gotta keep my girlish figure so I can keep my woman happy…”
Buffy giggled as she scooped up her kimono and headed towards the stairs. “Oh stop it, you know you’re beautiful.”
Spike pouted as he grabbed his robe and followed. “’M not beautiful. I’m… devastatingly handsome.” He grinned mischievously. “And I’m a sexy beast. You told me so yourself.”
Rolling her eyes, Buffy wiggled her bottom at him as he pursued her up the stairs and retorted, “Yeah, yeah. You’re sex on legs. A real sex God. God’s gift, even.”
Spike snorted and murmured, “Hardly.”
Sensing Buffy approaching the house, Spike stretched up and rested the weight bar back on its stand and flexed his arms. His muscles ached just enough to tell him he’d given them a good workout. He stood and stretched, then hitched up the despised sweatpants that constantly slipped down onto his lean hips and ambled over to the new piece of equipment he’d bought.
He spread a thick brilliant white towel over the sturdy big massage table and pulled over the little wheeled wooden cart with shelves crammed with towels and assorted bottles of oil. He then sank his hands into the bowl of hot water on the top that was warming the lavender and rosemary oil he’d chosen to tend to Buffy’s aching muscles when she returned from her run. It would never do to begin the massage with cold oil and hands, he wanted to relax his Slayer not startle her.
He smiled in satisfaction that his scheme to surprise Buffy had worked. The delivery guys had arrived to install the table just minutes after she had left, not questioning when he had insisted that it should be securely bolted to the floor. He had immediately assembled and stocked the cart with the supplies he had bought the week before when he’d had the idea.
He listened as Buffy entered the house and dropped her backpack by the door then followed her footsteps as she headed straight to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She was quiet for a few seconds as she drank, then she called loudly, “Spike? What are you doing? Are you okay down there?” The door at the top of the basement stairs opened and she took a few steps down to look around.
Spike grinned and asked, “You bellowed?”
Defensively, Buffy said, “Well you always come back upstairs when I come in. What are you… Oh!” She saw the preparations Spike had made and trotted the rest of the way down the stairs smiling excitedly.
Spike spread his hands and cried, “Surprise!” then prompted, “Get your kit off then, Slayer.”
Her running shoes landed with twin thuds at the bottom of the stairs. The sweat-soaked cropped tank top and tiny lycra running shorts went flying into the corner by the washing machine with the sports bra and plain white cotton panties, then wearing nothing but a pair of little white cotton socks with cute pink pigs embroidered on the ankles Buffy grabbed her bottle of water, hopped up onto the table and stretched out on her belly.
Having deliberately kept his eyes averted so her glistening body wouldn’t divert him from his chosen task Spike took a second huge towel and draped it over her from shoulder to knee to keep her from getting chilled in the cool air of the basement. He then peeled off the damp socks, poured a dollop of oil into his palm, rubbed his hands together and went to work on her left foot, his sure touch firm enough not to set off her tickle reflex.
“Good run, Buffy?”
“Yeah. I dunno how far I went, I’ll have to check on the map. Felt good.” Buffy wriggled slightly to get more comfortable and took another swig of water.
After he’d worked for a few minutes in silence it registered that Buffy had returned alone and Spike asked, “Niblet?”
“Tara’s afternoon class was cancelled so Dawnie’s gone to the library with her. They’ll be back about six ‘cos Tara insisted it was her turn to cook dinner… hmmmmmmmm…” Buffy’s voice tailed off into a sensuous moan as Spike finished manipulating her ankles and moved up to her calves.
A few moments later Buffy commented slightly accusingly, “You didn’t tell me after the Bathroom Incident that Tara had seen you naked before.”
Spike was taken aback. “Has she now?” He smirked, “Liked what she saw, did she?”
Buffy snorted. “Shyeah, right. It was in the forest. Apparently you strutted around naked in front of her and Xander… something to do with fish?”
“Ah… did I strut?” He chuckled. “I was catching your supper, Buffy. Wasn’t going to jump in the soddin’ river in my clothes. Never occurred to me to think about who might be watching. If she didn’t want to see she didn’t have to look.”
“Well, for future reference, don’t walk around in front of people of the opposite sex without your pants on, particularly with Son of Spike permanently standing to attention.” She sniggered. “Except for me of course, you can walk around in front of me in the nude as much as you like.”
Spike chuckled, “My pleasure, darlin’.”
After a few moments silence Buffy sniggered again. “Tara says she wished she could have taken a photo of Xander’s expression, she thinks you gave him a complex.”
Spike laughed at that. “Made a… huge… impression, did I? Poor boy…”
The massage continued with minimal conversation, the only sounds being Buffy’s moans of pleasure or her startled yelps when Spike found a tender spot. By the time his hands had reached her upper thighs Buffy was beyond intelligible speech and Spike had had to stop breathing entirely because with the towel folded above her bottom and her legs fallen open in relaxation the heavenly fragrance of her arousal had risen above the delicate perfume of the oil and he was having trouble concentrating.
At last Spike pulled the towel back down over Buffy’s bottom and legs and walked around the table to begin on her arms and shoulders. He took the dangling bottle of water from her loose grip and placed it on the shelf under the table, replenished the supply of oil on his hands and set to work on each individual finger, working up through her palms, wrists and arms.
When he leaned over her to flip the towel back off her shoulders he was taken by surprise when his sweatpants were abruptly tugged down past his hips and one warm slippery hand went around his backside to pull him further forward while the other grasped his ever present erection.
After a few very pleasant seconds Spike managed to make his brain work again and using every ounce of self-control he possessed he stepped back out of her reach, kicking the crumpled sweatpants that now hobbled his ankles out of the way. “If you want me to finish this massage, Buffy, you’ll keep those grabby little paws of yours to yourself. Now… which is it to be… playtime or massage time?”
Tilting her head up towards him Buffy pouted, “Buffy want both.”
Spike struggled not to laugh at her petulant tone as he insisted, “Nah ah. Pick one.”
That luscious bottom lip stuck out even further and the puppy dog eyes went into action as she whined, “Buffy still want both.”
Spike turned away to hide his smile as he insisted, “The lip doesn’t work if I’m not looking at it.”
She grumbled, “Phooey. Spoilsport. All right then, massage please,” and sulkily withdrew her arms and laid them back beside her head.
Chuckling and not trusting her resolve, Spike retreated back around to the foot of the table and drew the towel down to Buffy’s hips, then as he was about to climb up to kneel either side of her legs to concentrate on her back and shoulders he had an idea.
He swept the towel off her legs then taking a firm grip on her calves he gave a sharp jerk and tugged her down the table until her legs were dangling over the edge. Buffy yelped in surprise and cried, “Spike! What…?”
Reaching under the table for the pedal that controlled the hydraulic system he brought the table up to just the right height and answered smugly, “Gonna give you both, you greedy little minx.”
He stroked her bottom fondly, then slipped a finger into her slick crease to tease her. “Want me in here while I do your back, Buffy?”
She stretched sensuously as she got comfortable in her new position and sniggered, “God, yes, Spike. Do me, please…”
He promised suggestively, “Gonna do you all right…” Then as his hand explored he felt something unfamiliar, and drew his hand away to look. “Buffy? What…?”
She sniggered again. “It’s called a Hollywood wax, Spike. You like?”
He ducked down and examined her closely, her skin was completely hairless. He stroked the smooth pink flesh and murmured, “You got any idea how beautiful you are, Buffy?” Unable to resist, he lapped at the dewy moisture gathered in her folds before probing gently with his tongue. Drawing back again he traced her contours with his finger. “You do this for me, sweetheart? It’s great!” A sudden thought came to him. “Is this the discomfort I felt while you were out this afternoon? It hurt you? I thought you’d got into a fight or pulled a muscle!”
Spike could feel the heat coming off her in waves as she blushed. “I didn’t do it just for you, although I thought you might like it. With the way we’ve been going the last few weeks it’s more hygienic too. I always seem to be wet down there, and of course it’s easier for me to clean up after we’ve been… you know. And yes, it did hurt a little, but you know… benefits of Slayer healing… I’m all better now.” She wriggled provocatively. “Come on, Spike. Get with the ‘doing’…”
With one parting lick Spike stood up again and gripped her hip as he slowly guided his erection into her welcoming body. He took a few seconds to recover his composure after her muscles clamped around him then dragged his focus back to the task at hand.
He generously re-oiled his palms and set to work. His thumbs traced her spine as he leaned forward and gently thrust into her while his hands swept up the centre of her back, then after he had dug into the knot of muscle at the nape of her neck his hands spread out over her shoulders. As he stroked down her flanks he leaned back and withdrew until only the bulbous head of his erection remained inside her.
As he settled into a regular rhythm Buffy grunted at each strong upstroke as air was forced from her lungs and then hummed with pleasure as he caressed the sides of her breasts and ribcage on the downstroke.
After a few minutes she moaned, “God, Spike… ungh… This is Heaven... ungh… I’m back in Heaven.” Then after a few minutes she added, “Magic hands. Ungh. You’ve got magic hands. Ungh. Where did you learn… ungh… how to give the perfect… ungh… massage?”
When Spike didn’t respond immediately she picked up on his reluctance to answer and asked, “This is one of those questions… ungh… I shouldn’t ask unless… ungh… I’m prepared for an answer I… ungh… might not like isn’t it?… ungh… It’s all right, tell me.”
Spike zoned out as he relaxed forward into his warm cradle and his hands went onto autopilot as he reluctantly described a sojourn in Turkey a few years after he’d been turned when Angelus had discovered Turkish baths and become addicted to them.
When they had decided to move on he had dragged his favourite masseur back to the lair to teach Darla his technique so he could have a therapeutic massage whenever he felt like it. When his sire had indignantly refused to learn, Angelus had insisted Spike should take instruction instead so he could tend the rest of them. After that his talents frequently came in handy after one of Angelus’ more extreme pain/pleasure sessions with either Darla or Drusilla.
After first Angelus and then Darla had deserted him and Drusilla, Spike had kept up his skills as when Dru had had one of her ‘turns’ she had loved his tender massages, even more so after Prague where she’d been stricken by her mystical wasting illness.
When the ensuing silence had gone on just a beat too long and threatened to become uncomfortable, Buffy hesitantly asked, “And what about the cooking? Was that something similar?”
“Yeah.” Spike sighed. “Learned the basics as a boy. Wasn’t allowed in the study with the books on Fridays and Saturdays when father was preparing his sermons, so then, and on wet days when I wasn’t allowed out in the gardens in the square, I used to hang around in the kitchens with cook. She used to give me little jobs to do to keep me out from underfoot and I couldn’t help picking things up. The fancy stuff; that was all Angelus’ idea. The year after I was turned we were in Paris when he grabbed this famous chef. Of course Darla, the bitch, wouldn’t lower herself to learn and Angelus knew I still liked to eat human food so he terrorised the idiot into teaching me. Then we’d roll into a new town and the big git and Darla would go to the ballet or the opera and pick our mark. You know the type, arrogant old toff with a big gold watch in the best box, ugly wife dripping with furs and jewels, couple of pretty young daughters and a maid dancing attendance, bound to have a big house and lots of servants. Then he’d make an excuse to get invited into the house and we’d kill everyone. He’d turn a few of the servants for minions and train them not to snack on everyone in sight then we’d pose as the new owners of the house and throw a big party. We’d invite all the local bigwigs and feed them a slap up meal. That way we’d receive lots of invitations in return to other big houses where we could have a good time while we ran through the servants. Usually left the upper class nits alone so as not to call attention to ourselves. Nobody bothered when servants went missing, happened all the time. Plenty of poor fools looking for work in service, easier to replace them than go looking for a missing maid or footman. Became a sort of routine for a few years, get to a new country, nab a chef and I’d have to learn the local way of cooking. Got us posh digs and a ready supply of food and loot wherever we went. We’d make the most of it and then move on before there were too many disappearances or our ‘hosts’ were missed and they tumbled to us.”
When Spike came out of his nostalgic reverie he realised he was still buried deeply within Buffy’s body and he was leaning so far forward he was practically lying on top of her. His hands were still, clutching her shoulders as his cheek rested on her back. Just his thumbs moved, tracing small circles on her skin. As he stood back up and half-heartedly resumed the massage he waited to feel Buffy’s horror and disgust at his tale and was surprised when all he felt was her calm acceptance.
“I haven’t forgotten you’re a vampire, Spike. I also know you aren’t the same monster who did all those things. I know you’ve changed.” Deliberately lightening the mood again she asked brightly, “Any more hidden talents you haven’t told me about?”
Gaining in confidence that she wasn’t going to get upset with him, he re-oiled his hands and strengthened his movements back into the full massage he had begun with, once more thrusting deeply into her at each stroke. “’Spect so, sweetheart. There’s lots of spare time to fill in a century and more of unlife. You pick up interests and after a few years you get bored with them, then after a while you find something else that catches your imagination.”
Their mutual arousal grew and gradually Spike’s focus shifted from the feeling of Buffy’s rippling muscles under his hands to the liquid heat at his groin until he gave up all pretence at massaging his Mate and grasped her hips firmly as he began to concentrate on their pleasure, Buffy’s forced grunts turning to breathy cries of delight as he began to move more purposefully.
“You love this don’t you darlin’?” Spike gasped hoarsely. One hand left her hip and swept up her body to cup a plump breast and tweak the erect nipple. He groaned, “Gonna have to use oil more often, you’re so soft and smooth…”
Buffy could only respond with a guttural, “Oh God… Oil good…”
“You just can’t get enough of the Big Bad slamming into you and filling you up, can you sweetheart. Such a greedy little hussy you are. Tell me you want it, Buffy. Tell me how much you want the Big Bad.”
Buffy clamped her fingers around the edges of the massage table and rammed back against his thrusts, panting, “Want my Big Bad all day every day. Every time I look at you I want you inside me, need you. Don’t care where, Spike. Don’t care how, fast or slow, just need you all the time… never felt so good… so loved… love you so much…”
As always those magic words tilted Spike’s world off its axis and forced a wordless howl of ecstasy from his lips as he emptied himself into his Slayer who wailed and shuddered around him as his pleasure tipped her over the edge to join him.
He clutched her tightly to him as she hauled them back up he table and collapsed in a heap with Spike lying half on top of her.
They lay entwined recovering for several minutes before Buffy heaved an enormous sigh and commented with a little giggle, “Spike… I’ve decided I like massages. Could I order one just like that for every day please?”
He sniggered, “Just like that, Buffy? My pleasure.” Becoming conscious of time passing he groaned and rolled away from Buffy to drop off the massage table and pull his sweat pants back on, reminding her, “Time for a shower, yeah? The girls will be back soon and we gotta get all pretty for the meeting with Clem’s auntie.”
Giving a resigned sigh Buffy made an effort to get up then subsided again with a little moan and whined jokingly, “I can’t move. I’m all noodly.” She held her arms up and demanded teasingly, “You’ll have to carry me.”
Shaking his head fondly Spike wrapped her in the big towel before sweeping her up in his arms and heading up the stairs. He grumbled jokingly, “What did your last slave die of then, Slayer?”
Buffy wriggled an arm free of the towel and cupped his cheek. Seriously, she whispered, “Not a slave, Spike. Partners, remember?” When they reached the foyer she pointed to her backpack by the front door demanding imperiously, “Ooh, grab my bag!”
Spike chuckled and murmured ironically, “Oh no, not a slave,” as he obeyed and carried his glorious slippery burden upstairs to shower and dress.
TBC.