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Authors Chapter Notes:
You don't have to read Quiet Summer for this to make sense. All you need to know is that Buffy and Spike have a cousin in common (no blood relation to each other), Xander, and that Buffy is a bit less than seven years older than Spike. He turns eighteen, they move in together while their parents think he lives in the dorms.


In the last chapter of Quiet Summer the two love birds christen the house.

Warning: slight bondage

I'm a terrible, horrible person and blame it all to sleepiness! I forgot to thank the two wonderful ladies who beta'd for me: Tanit and DragonflyLady. They're awesome and they're darlings! I also wanna thank SpikessGoddess for suggesting I add bits of dialog when I thought the whole thing didn't work for me. I love you ladies! *hugs tight*


Christening the Balcony


Spike was used to waking up in an empty bed. At least he’d had to get used to it again when his family moved to the States and he’d had to spend nights without Buffy. Still, he instantly felt something was amiss, waking up by himself on the huge king-size bed his first morning in the place he and his girl would share from now on. He shifted to her side of the bed and felt some lingering warmth from where her body had lain, so she couldn’t have been up for long.

Buffy was never a morning person. Ok, so never was too long a time, but she hadn’t been one for as long as they’d been together, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around her getting up before him… or before dawn, as the faint light sneaking in through the billowing curtains was gray, indicating the sun was still below the horizon.

Kicking away the sheets he sat up and swung his legs over the side. His mind was still hazy, laden with traces of the best sleep he’d had in months, and the only coherent thought was to find her. He had to will his body to stand, every muscle sore from the lovemaking of the previous day… and night.

He dragged his bare feet on the wall to wall carpet towards the bedroom door, wishing the floor was uncovered so the cold against his soles could wake him up faster than the breeze coming in from the balcony. *The balcony. Door to the balcony was closed when we went to bed.* Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms in an effort to clear them, he changed direction. He reached the balcony doors in just a few steps, and threw the curtains open, a million scenarios – including one that had Buffy sleepwalking over the railings – flashing through his mind.

What he did not expect was to see her sitting laid back in one of the chairs, her legs folded, feet tucked underneath her, a hand idly toying with a strand of hair. She didn’t look at him, seemed not to even notice him, as her eyes were trained somewhere in the distance.

She was a vision in the dark blue silk robe that stopped well above her knees, the soft first light of the coming day making her skin look pale. Still, her withdrawn look reminded Spike of the night he found her in the pool, when she still feared there would be no future for the two of them and wanted to wash her tears away where he couldn’t see her. His heart lurched in his chest at the possibility she regretted taking the step to move in with him.

“Buffy? Pet?” His voice was hushed and he waited for her beautiful eyes to turn to him before speaking again. The look of love in her eyes dispelled his fears, but he still needed some vocal reassurance. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” He kept his tone light, trying to hide the insecurities that he’d thought gone, but were obviously still residing in the part of him that kept reminding him she was six years *and a few months* his senior and might just not need him as much as he needed her.

Confusion spread all over Buffy’s beautiful face. “Second thoughts? About what?” Her nose did that adorable scrunch that always made Spike want to trace the little bump on it. When he just shrugged and hanged his head her eyes widened. “Us? I could never have second thoughts about us, baby.”

“Then why are you… here, luv?” He was still curious but his stance visibly relaxed as he leaned against the doorframe, letting her admire his naked form.

“It was hot inside, I got up to open the window-” she ran her fingers over her collarbone, opening the top part of her robe a bit more, as if to emphasize the heat she felt, and lost track of her thoughts when she saw the immediate reaction that had on Spike.

Seeing the seemingly innocent gesture, Spike felt his blood rush to the part of his body he’d have sworn was the most exhausted and bring it to life. He didn’t miss the look of lust in his girlfriend’s eyes and couldn’t resist tilting his hips forward a bit, eliciting a groan from her. “You were sayin’?” Cocky Spike was back in the driver seat; his girl still wanted him.

Buffy’s tongue darted out to wet her lips that suddenly felt parched, before she reluctantly let her gaze slide up from his cock to his face. What she saw there made a wicked grin bloom on her face. “The flowers smelled so nice, and I came outside for a little while… I was thinking…” Her teeth worried her lower lip, as she assumed an innocent look and lowered her eyes to the floor.

“You were thinkin’…” he urged her on.

“I was thinking we haven’t christened the balcony yet.” She gave him a coy look through her eyelashes.

“Well, that’ll have to be rectified, won’ it?”

She lowered her feet to the floor and spread her knees with her hands, allowing him a good view of her waxed pussy as the robe fell open.

Spike didn’t need more of an invitation. He closed the distance between them with slow, calculated steps, kneeling between her legs when he reached her. Buffy moved her hands from her knees, grabbing the armrests when his fingers traced her inner thighs and he leaned over her for a taste of her luscious lips.

She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs drew closer to the apex of her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh in an effort to keep from rushing things. He wanted nothing more than to be buried inside her, but he had to make sure she was ready for him. If he felt all shagged out when he woke up, she was probably sore. He whispered into the kiss. “I’ll have to make up for that oversight, shag you good an’ proper right here. Make you scream for me…”

Buffy’s fingers tangled into his hair, pushing his head back instead of pulling him to her and her gaze locked with his. “Want you.”

Spike gave her a quick peck before lowering his head to pull one of her nipples into his mouth, flattening his tongue against it and worrying it with his teeth till the diamond shaped peak was hard between his lips. “You have me.” With a noisy openmouthed kiss he moved to lavish the other mound with the same attention before nuzzling the valley between her breasts. “You bloody have me, kitten. ‘M all yours, I am.”

Meanwhile, his sinful hands were restless on her skin. His thumbs reached her folds, making her shiver when they glided over them and then the fingers of one hand were spreading her open for him to almost timidly trace her entrance with the other.

Buffy grabbed his wrist, pushing his fingers against her, inside her, but he resisted in fear of hurting her.

“Please, Spike. I need you.”

He could only nod against her chest, dazzled by the lust in her hazel eyes, still not sated despite the hours the two had spend in bed, and enthralled by the heat his fingers were rubbing against. She was wet for him – so wet, always – and only for him.

Sitting back he pushed his palms beneath her buttocks, pulling her off the chair and positioning her over his erection. “You sure you’re ready, kitten?”

“Always… always ready for you.” Her panted words mirrored his previous thoughts and brought forth a feeling of masculine pride at how he had her, this goddess, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

When the tip of his cock entered her they both lost control.

Buffy’s legs were folded loosely outside Spike’s till then, but at the first feel of him inside her she wrapped them around him and, grabbing his shoulders, pushed down at the same time he rose to slam inside her.

They let out matching groans and remained still for a few seconds, catching their breaths while Buffy’s tightness adjusted to his girth. He never ceased being amazed at how tight she was, even after he’d had her so many times. “Buffy.” Her name was a prayer on his lips as he felt her surround him.

Spike was torn between wanting to fuck her raw and wanting to make love to her till the sun was high up in the sky. She solved his dilemma for him when she started moving on top of him, rising so he’d be almost all the way out of her and then plunging back down hard. Moving in the position they were made her inner muscles squeeze him so tight he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold back for long.

With a growl, he let go of her ass, pulling the sash of her now untied robe off with one hand and moving the other higher to hold her against him as he leaned forward, shifting to lay her on her back towards the edge of the balcony. The hand that was underneath her snaked to caress her side, then glided all the way up her arm. He grasped her wrist and stretched her arm over her head, smiling when she did the same thing with her other arm. Balancing his weight on his knees, still inside her, he used the sash to tie her wrists together and around a railing making sure the knot would hold but not dig into her smooth skin.

His eyes hadn’t left her face during all that, he’d taken in the soft smile and loving gaze and he swore he loved her even more for how she looked at him, eager, and happy, and playful, and… *mine!* “You’re so bloody hot, all spread out for me. At my mercy, mine to fuck… Wan’ me to fuck you, Buffy?”

Buffy had for a long time had no doubt that she was meant to be with Spike, yet every time he was inside her she was convinced all over again that she was made for him, that there had never been another reason for her being alive than to find him. She shifted her hips, impatient to feel him moving, to once again reach the edge his magic *his love* always pushed her over.

He leered at her and she felt a fresh wave of lust wash over her. He conquered her all over again every time they were so intimately joined, he seduced her, claimed her as his with every part of his body, and she was addicted to his power over her. Knowing she had just as much power over him made her heart swell with joy.

“Tell me what you wan’, Buffy.”

“Fuck me, Spike. Hard.”

And then he was moving inside her again, holding on to her hips as he pumped hard and fast, and she was caught in a whirlwind of sensation.

Spike could feel her getting close, but wanted to go deeper, make it even more intense for her when she finally found her release. Ceasing his movements, he used both hands to unlock her ankles and drape her legs over his arms, lifting her ass higher, changing the angle of his thrusts.

The way he was rubbing against that sweet spot inside her made her feel light-headed and caused whimpers and mewls to escape her lips. She could hear her blood pumping inside her temples, smell the fading fragrance of night-flower in the air, hear birds twittering and at the same time she felt as if all of her existence was concentrated in that ball of white fire in her womb that was about to burst and flood her body in ecstasy.

Spike felt her tense at the same time he felt the tightening in his own groin. *Made for me, she is. My perfect match.* His thumb found and circled her clitoris, rubbing it in time to the rhythm of his hips which became shallower and faster. “Cum for me, baby, le’ me feel you cum. Now, Buffy, for me.”

“Spike! Fuck!” And just like that she came undone. No description could fit her orgasm better, as she felt jolts of pleasure run through her entire body, before she was limp in his arms. He followed her over the edge with jerky thrusts, screaming his love for her, as he spilled inside her.

His legs didn’t seem to be up to the challenge of lifting his, let alone their combined, weight so he settled for untying her wrists before collapsing on top of her, seeking her lips and drinking down her professions of love with the eagerness a man stranded in the desert would exhibit upon reaching an oasis.

Turned out he had to stand up and carry her inside when fifty-eight-year-old Mrs. McDonald from the next apartment called out, “Are you kids done? I wanna hang out my washing.” Spike had never seen a more adorable blush than the one on Buffy’s face when she playfully slapped his shoulder and suggested they go inside… and that they could maybe re-christen the bedroom after a few hours of sleep.




The End (though more one shots will follow)


Chapter End Notes:
Hope you liked. This was the first smut I wrote since the end of QS and I'm all jittery about it. Please let me know what you think of it! *bats eyelashes*




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