Spike, a vampire with a soul, and Buffy, the eldest Vampire Slayer on earth, are ‘married with children.’ They have been together since Spike helped Buffy defeat Angelus and Acathla. During the fight, Spike’s soul was restored at the same time Angel’s was when Willow performed Jenny Calendar’s spell, Dru was accidentally dusted by Spike as he tried to defend Buffy, and Angel was sent to hell closing the vortex Acathla created. Jenny Calendar figured out how to re-write the soul restoration spell to leave out the ‘perfect happiness’ clause, but even when Angel came back from hell, Buffy chose Spike over him.
Spike and Buffy were married less than a year later, just before the birth of their first daughter, the Key. During the marriage ceremony Spike claimed Buffy, bringing her into the Clan of Aurelius. The bond created by the claim allows them to share dreams within which they have control over their actions and the dream itself.
Their eldest daughter, Bess, a product of a vengeance wish made by Cecily, is a century old Slayer turned vampire with her soul restored. The first child actually born to the couple was Annie, made of them by the monks to hide the Key. The middle children are twins, Dani and Billy, bestowed on the warriors by the PTB for their heroism and self-sacrifice, and the baby is a fiery red-head named MacKenzie, conceived when Buffy, posing as a guardian angel named Avengelyne, traveled back in time and ended up sleeping with human William. Apocalyptic prophecies centered on the children of the ‘fair, immortal warriors’ abound, but Spike and Buffy try to make the children’s lives as normal as possible and shield them from the horrors they fight every day.
During the past year, Buffy and Spike went through a very rough time monetarily. Buffy was forced to sell many of her nicer designer clothes, shoes, jewelry, and other items of value to make ends meet.
Since so many bad things happen on Buffy’s birthday, last year she declared ‘no more birthdays’, thus forcing Spike to find some creative ways to celebrate the day of her birth. This is his solution. Buffy Birthday Eve.
**~**
Monday night – Tuesday morning, January 17th – 18th, 2011:
Buffy furrowed her brow as she turned in a circle in the dark. She couldn’t see anything, not just because it was dark, but because there didn’t seem to be anything to see. Not only that, there was nothing to hear or feel or smell; it was like she was inside a big black hole of utter nothingness. It actually made her eyes hurt and her ears ring as they strained for some sliver of input, some small noise or a flicker of light. It reminded her of the place where Spike’s trials had taken place in the Wish-World except she didn’t even have the brightly lit floor under her, just infinite darkness in every direction. She’d just fallen asleep a little while ago, so surely this must just be a dream … right? She hadn’t died in her sleep … had she? Oh, that would be so her luck, to survive battles with every big bad in the world, to finally have enough money to actually look forward to going to the mall again, only to die in her sleep.
“You aren’t dressed, luv,” Spike’s deep voice boomed in the silence and Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around to face him.
“Spike! Jesus H. Christ! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a Slayer! It could get you dusted!” Buffy chastised him as she tried to hide her panic and calm her racing heart.
“Not bloody likely,” he smirked at her. “You never could dust me even when you hated me.”
Buffy rolled her eyes and folded her arms tightly across her chest. She was also surprised that she could actually see him in the pitch blackness – that fact alone told her a lot. “Is this your dream? Where the hell are we? Inside a Kazimir Malevich painting?”
Spike’s brows shot up. “Learned more than you let on in that Art Appreciation class, eh?” he questioned with a small smile.
Buffy rolled her eyes again. “That one just stuck with me. I could paint like that. ‘Black Square on a White Field’ … seriously? That’s called a wall! I’ve done many masterpieces in my day if that’s all it takes!”
Spike’s laugh rumbled out and seemed to be swallowed by the nothingness, just barely making it to Buffy’s ears before being smothered.
“Well, that’s a bloody brilliant guess, luv, but no,” Spike told her, waving his hand and changing the black around them to red, then orange, then purple and back to black. “It’s an empty canvas, waiting for us to paint it. What color do you fancy?”
Buffy smiled and dropped her arms as she took a step closer to him. “Blue.”
Spike bit his bottom lip and waved his arm, turning the black to a very light powder blue. “Like this?”
“No, darker.”
He waved his arm again and made it a midnight blue, almost as dark as the black that had been there before. “This?”
“Noooo … lighter.”
“You’re bloody hard to please,” he contended.
“And you’re being pigheaded. You know what color blue I want.”
“What color is that, pet?”
“Well…” Buffy began, narrowing her gaze and studying his eyes intently. “I’d say it’s a combination of cerulean and cobalt blue, with a little touch of cornflower blue in the center and deep water blue on the edges with maybe a little…”
Spike held up his hands, stopping her. “What’d you do, put a bloody color wheel up t’ my eyes when I was sleeping, Slayer?”
Buffy laughed and slapped his chest playfully. “No, silly! I took a picture to the paint store to get them to match it. But I had to choose one color, they couldn’t make one that would streak and blend like that.”
Spike waved his hand and they were surrounded by swirls of different shades of blue, with light cornflower blending into cerulean and cobalt and those blending into a dark midnight blue on the edges. “Guess that makes me more handy than the berks at ‘ome Depot.”
Buffy turned around in a slow circle, her grin widening as she went all the way around. She was glowing by the time she got back to where she started, facing her husband. “Handy and randy – that’s you in a nutshell,” she teased him. “So, now that we’re swimming in an ocean of your eyes, what should do we do next?”
“I thought perhaps you’d dance with me, Elizabeth,” Spike replied, his voice slipping easily back to the more formal accent of his youth.
He snapped his fingers and suddenly classical music began playing from somewhere unknown, stars sparkled brightly in the swirling blue ocean that surrounded them, giving the illusion of being immersed in the van Gogh painting ‘The Starry Night’. A white marble dance floor, surrounded by large vases of fragrant, long-stemmed white roses mixed with gardenias appeared around them. Interspersed between the vases of flowers were tall candelabras, each with twelve tall, white tapered candles burning in them. The whole room glowed softly in the candle and star light and the perfume from the flowers wafted over them on a soft spring breeze. To top it all off, Buffy and Spike were both dressed to the nines, ready for a glamorous formal ball.
Spike gave her a little bow and held his hand out for her to take it. Buffy just looked at him for several long moments. The military’s definition of ‘shock and awe’ paled in comparison to Spike’s. In an instant, Buffy was most definitely shocked and awed. Spike was dressed in a tux. He had a pristine white jacket over a midnight black vest, a high collared white shirt, a crisp black bowtie and black trousers. He might’ve just stepped off the pages of GQ or returned from party with royalty in Monaco or a 007 movie set. Spike cocked a brow at Buffy and waited as she took him in, her eyes raking down his body slowly. Even his shoes were spit-polished and the shiny patent leather gleamed in the starlight.
Buffy lifted her eyes back to his then looked down at her own ensemble. She had on a rich, royal blue, strapless, floor length dress with sparkling diamonds on the bodice. The bright jewels ran down in a jagged, diagonal line between her breasts and ended in a large starburst which stretched from the flat of her stomach around her left side. The bodice was shimmering silk and hugged her body tightly, but the skirt was made of light, wispy layers of chiffon that fell in delicate ruffled tiers to the floor. The diaphanous layers of the dress curled around her legs and swirled like the wind when she moved – it made her feel like a princess or Cinderella dressed for the ball. Spike wasn’t your typical Fairy Godmother, that much was certain, but this wasn’t bad. The front of the skirt had a thigh-high slit that revealed her golden legs to her partner, and don’t think he didn’t notice. On her feet were strappy heels covered in more diamonds … hey, it’s a dream, they might as well be diamonds, right? Who dreams of rhinestones?
Spike bit his bottom lip as he watched her expression morph from surprise to amazement and waited for her to take his hand. He’d wanted to take her dancing for real for her birthday – somewhere fancy and special – maybe to LA or even New York, but she’d declined – vehemently. “No more birthday’s”, she’d reminded him sternly. Her tone and the set of her jaw told him that arguing would be fruitless. Just because she refused to acknowledge the day, didn’t mean it wouldn’t come; it didn’t mean it wasn’t her birthday and it didn’t stop bad things from happening on that day. But … that’s what she wanted, so, of course, Spike grudgingly agreed. That did not, however, mean he couldn’t take her dancing in their dreams.
Finally, Buffy looked back up at him with wide eyes full of wonder and excitement. “My God, Spike! This is … beautiful!” she exclaimed gleefully, waving her arms out to encompass her dress and totally ignoring his extended hand. “And you’re totally …” Buffy paused a moment, looking for just the right word, “… debonair.”
“You are ravishing,” Spike whispered breathlessly as he let his eyes wander down her body then back up again to her eyes. He leaned forward so his mouth was close enough to her ear that she could feel his cool breath on her skin and he trailed a finger lightly down her arm from her bare shoulder to her elbow. “And that’s just what I intend to do to you … later.”
A flush of heat tingled over Buffy’s chest, up her neck and tinged her cheeks with a rosy blush. She reached out to put a hand behind his neck and hold him there, to pull his lips to hers, but he moved back faster than she expected.
Spike smiled at her thwarted attempt to catch him and extended his hand towards her again. “May I have this dance, milady?”
Buffy gave him a devilish look – a mixture of frustration over him moving away and excitement to see what he was going to do next. She finally decided to just go with the adventure; there would be time for ravishing later. She gave him a small curtsy and took his hand. “It would be my honor, kind sir,” she replied, affecting her best overly dignified, upper-crust Oxford accent.
Spike suppressed a small smile at her attempt to sound like someone other than who she was as he settled his hands lightly on her body and began to move around the large dance floor in a slow waltz. Buffy followed his movements with ease, her skirt flowing and twirling around her legs with each whirling step as the Blue Danube played from an unseen orchestra.
{{Click here to see an example of a Blue Danube Waltz on YouTube }}
Buffy couldn’t wipe the goofy smile from her face as they glided over the glimmering marble of the dance floor. The little flecks of mica in it reflected the blue from above and gave it an otherworldly feel … like they were dancing across the face of the moon. The whole ballroom … if you could call it a ‘room’, sparkled with the twinkling light from the stars that were not only above them, but surrounding them, as well. The flickering candles around the edges of the floor cast the whole area in a warm, golden light and the air was full of the sweet scent of gardenias and roses, the music was lilting, and the company was magical.
“Are you happy, luv?” Spike asked as they moved across the floor in perfect step to the ‘one, two, three’ time of the music.
“No, I’m horribly unhappy,” Buffy replied, forcing her lips into a pouty frown.
Spike stopped dancing abruptly, making Buffy stumble and nearly fall. She held onto him tighter to catch her balance. “What’d you do that for?”
“You don’t like the dance? We could change it,” he offered, snapping his fingers. Suddenly the music changed to Bobby Day singing ‘Rockin’ Robin’ and their fancy clothes were replaced with something from a James Dean movie; white t-shirt and black jeans, black boots, and slicked-back hair for Spike and a poodle skirt, saddle shoes, and a bouffant ‘do for Buffy.
“No…” Buffy moaned. Before she could say more, Spike snapped his fingers again and Chubby Checker singing ‘The Twist’ blared from the invisible speakers and their clothes changed again. Buffy into a white mini-skirt, a blue sweater top that left her midriff bare, and white go-go boots and Spike into a peasant shirt and bellbottom jeans.
“Spike! Stop! I was only kidding!” Buffy lamented, grabbing his hands before he could snap is fingers again and Saturday Night Fever started playing.
“Oh. You are … you were?”
“Yes, silly! What’s not to be happy about? I’m in a beautiful lunar ballroom surrounded by more roses than probably actually exist on earth and I was waltzing with the most handsome man in the room,” Buffy teased him, reaching up to lay a hand gently on the side of his face. “Spike – if I’m with you, I’m happy … Well, assuming we aren’t being tortured or, you know … held prisoner or getting beat up or anything like that.
“I love you…” she continued, getting lost in the depths of his blue eyes, “… and this place is … it’s beautiful. Thank you for it.”
Spike smiled and leaned down to touch his lips to hers gently. “I love you, Buffy. Just want you happy, luv.”
“Then give me my diamond encrusted dress and shoes back,” she murmured against his lips.
Spike laughed and snapped his fingers again and everything went back to what they’d originally had on and the music morphed back to a slow waltz.
“Dance with me, Spike. I want to dance with you forever.”
As they began to glide around the floor again, they were covered in a soft rain of dusty pink rose petals which drifted down to the ground like fragrant leaves in the fall. It was magical.
**~**
After dancing in the rain of rose petals for a long while, the music faded into the background, the rain ended, and the couple slowed then finally stilled in the center of the floor. Spike pulled Buffy closer, pressing her body against his tightly and slowly lowered his lips to hers. It was so gentle, his lips so fluid and soft that Buffy thought perhaps it was a ghost kissing her, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist told her otherwise. Her skin began to prickle and tingles began spreading down her body as he poured his love into her. A low sensual moan escaped her throat as she leaned into him, drinking him in.
Spike began nibbling on her bottom lip with his teeth and teasing her with his magical tongue, then he captured her lips again with his. There was nothing ghostly about them this time – they were demanding and full of desire and the tingling in her body brought a flush of goose bumps to her skin. His tongue delved between her lips and tangled with hers and they danced anew – tasting and teasing and twirling around the other in the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.
Buffy’s arms wrapped more tightly around his neck, holding him to her lest he try to escape again like he’d done earlier – but she need not have worried about that. When the desperate kiss broke, Buffy drew in deep gasping breaths, but didn’t move her lips far from his. She breathed him in, panting against his lips as she leaned against him, not quite trusting her knees to hold. Spike smelled of sandalwood and a hint of vanilla from the aphrodisiac soap that Anya had gotten him hooked on – ‘Stud Bubbles’. Buffy had come to love the aroma of it over the last year, despite knowing that neither one of them really needed any ‘aphrodisiacing’. Beyond the fresh scent of the soap on his skin, the soothing balm of well-worn leather and the metallic tang of blood tickled her senses and she sighed as her breathing returned to nearly normal. This was Spike. Sometimes his scent was laced with whiskey or Kool-aid or puréed peas or even spit-up, hardly ever with tobacco anymore, but blood and leather were the constants that never went away. It gave her a safe, warm feeling all over just to breathe him in and, at moments like this, those scents also made her tingling nerve-endings jump with electricity.
Spike held Buffy against him, his arms encircling her as she gasped for breath. He breathed in ‘eau de Buffy’, a scent he could never get enough of. Above all was the perfume she’d dabbed behind her ears, Chanel No5, but there was so much more beneath that. Her hair smelled of sweet, tropical mangos tonight – she never could keep the same shampoo for long and he never knew what new scent would greet him, but they were always sweet and fruity. Her mouth smelled and tasted minty fresh from her toothpaste, but he could still get a hint of chocolate on her breath … she must’ve snuck a treat before bed. Below the perfume, the scent of her vanilla and honey body soap lingered on her skin. There was a hint of baby powder tossed in – probably from checking on MacKenzie after her shower, and that gave Spike a warm feeling in his gut. But the scent that he loved the most was the one that came from within her – the slight sheen of salty perspiration on her skin from dancing and the aroma of her desire which wafted up to him when she moved just so. He closed his eyes and concentrated on that above all – that was Buffy.
Someone coughed and cleared their throat from behind Spike making Buffy jump and pull back from the embrace. She was glad to find her knees had recovered from the kiss and didn’t waver too badly when she let go of him.
There was a waiter that looked suspiciously like Xander just behind Spike. He was dressed in tux and tails, like a headwaiter from some old black and white movie, his dark hair shiny and slicked back neatly. He was holding a tray with two glasses of champagne and a variety of hors d'oeuvres and petit fours. Buffy gave Spike a sideways glance as Xander placed the tray down onto a table that had suddenly appeared next to a white, overstuffed divan – which was also new.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Weckerly?” dream Xander asked, backing up and standing at rigid attention.
“No, that will be all, Jeeves,” Spike replied in a serious tone.
“Very good, sir.” Xander gave Spike a perfunctory bow, turned on his heel like a well trained solider, and marched away.
“Jeeves?” Buffy questioned, cocking a brow at Spike.
Spike shrugged. “Gotta put the boy in his place from time t’ time.”
Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes. “So, what’s to eat?” she asked eyeing the tray.
“Whatever your heart desires, luv,” Spike assured her as he motioned for her to sit down.
Spike watched as she sat on the couch and crossed her legs, they spilled out of the long slit in the dress in a most appetizing way. Spike’s cock jumped in his trousers as he let his eyes roam up her body. She was leaning forward slightly, studying the treats on the tray and he could see down the dark chasm between her breasts. Her hair spilled over her bare shoulders in waves of golden silk and he imagined it tickling his body as she kissed a line of fire down his torso. His cock stood at full attention in his pants. He tried to ignore it as he sat down beside her – it wasn’t time for that yet.
Buffy picked up the two glasses of champagne, handed one to Spike and lifted hers towards him.
“To you,” Spike toasted, tilting his glass to clink against hers.
Buffy moved her glass back a fraction and shook her head. “To us,” she corrected, giving him a loving smile.
“To us, then,” Spike agreed, touching his glass to hers before they both took a deep swallow of the sweet, cool beverage. Despite drinking heartily, the level of the liquid in the glasses didn’t go down. Cool – bottomless bubbly.
Buffy leaned into him and snuggled under his arm. They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit before Spike offered, “Penny.”
Buffy snorted a soft laugh and looked up at him. “You’d probably come out on the short end of that deal,” she teased.
“My bloody penny, try me,” Spike insisted.
Buffy held out her hand, palm up and a British pence appeared in it from nowhere. She laughed and bit her bottom lip as she dropped it down the top of her dress. Spike watched it disappear down the slot and licked his lips, envying the little copper disk its cozy, warm hiding place.
Buffy leaned back into him, resting her head on his chest and one hand on the silky fabric that covered the hard muscles of his thigh. Spike tried to ignore the heat rising from that spot up his body. Not time yet.
“I was just thinking that … well … we done good,” she began. “Bess is finding herself, discovering her own identity, working on her GED and letting herself dream and love and believe in the future. Annie’s just the most amazing girl. If I didn’t remember the agony of popping her out, I wouldn’t ever have believed she was our daughter. Do you think the monks … did something … added something to her? I mean, other than the Key thing?”
Spike shook his head. “No, pet – she’s the best of us, you and me. The absolute cream from the top o’ the cask, that’s what the magic tapped into when we made her. Do you remember that night? I’ll never bloody forget it … it was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt.”
Buffy nodded. “I remember,” she whispered.
“Lemon Drop and Junior now … those two are…” Spike paused a second, thinking.
“They’re you,” Buffy filled in. “They’re all you. Billy’s got William’s brains and heart; Dani’s got Spike’s fire and spirit. They’re the best of you.”
“Lemon Drop looks like you,” Spike pointed out.
Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, well … the Powers tossed me a crumb for almost dying – but those two really are you.”
“Odds are, she'll be a Slayer … you know that,” Spike persisted.
Buffy sighed. “I know, but … maybe not. Maybe … it won’t work that way.” Buffy grew quiet a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, then rolled her eyes and sighed. “Of course she’ll be a Slayer. Who am I kidding?”
“Nothing wrong with it, pet. I happen to love a Slayer … two really, and can say they are the strongest, bravest, most passionate people I’ve ever known … if a bit on the stubborn side.”
Buffy laughed and slapped lightly at Spike’s chest. He allowed himself to breathe when her hand settled there instead of back on his thigh. His trousers were getting rather uncomfortable and her hand on his thigh hadn’t been helping any.
“Ok, well … maybe Dani is part Slayer and part Spike; she got the brawn – but Billy is all William, he got the brains,” she acquiesced.
“Don’t sell William short,” Spike warned. “He’ll surprise you.”
Buffy smiled and nodded. “You don’t have to tell me – I know how strong William is.
“So,” she continued, “I wonder if that means MacKenzie will be all Buffy … or all Avengelyne or, God forbid, a combination of the two.”
“A wild angel with a fiery temper, a sharp wit, a strong will, and a defiant streak a mile wide?” he wondered, cocking a brow as he gazed down at her.
Buffy nodded against his chest. “Let’s pray to God she’s not a Slayer too! She won’t just set the gym on fire, she’ll blow up the whole school! And probably talk Bess and Dani into helping her.”
A laugh rumbled from Spike’s chest – it felt like a big cat purring beneath Buffy’s cheek. “We’ll keep all incendiary devices away from the girl until we’re sure.”
Buffy laughed. “Good plan. We should probably nail her window shut, too – just in case.”
Buffy sat up and turned to face her husband, her green eyes shone with pride. “We done good,” she repeated. “They’re good kids. We just need to … keep doing good. We can’t let our guard down. There are too many things that go bump in the night – too many prophecies and …”
“We’ll keep ‘em safe, luv. No worries. With a Slayer and a vampire with a soul for parents, what could possibly go wrong?”
Buffy laughed and shook her head. “I can’t think of a single thing,” she admitted, keeping the tone of sarcasm to a minimum. “Worrying won’t help anyway,” she added with a sigh. “But let’s keep an eye out for things like rivers running red, a sudden overabundance of locusts and toads, or four guys on horseback riding through town.”
“Sounds like a solid plan, luv.”
Buffy leaned forward, sat her drink down and picked up one of the hors d'oeuvres from the tray that Jeeves-Xander had brought. “Mmmm…” she moaned as she bit into a fluffy, cheesy treat.
“What do you call these?” she asked in a muffled voice, holding a hand over her mouth. There are proper and improper ways to talk with your mouth full and Buffy was nothing if not proper in this regard.
“Gougères,” Spike answered, plucking one off the tray for himself. “Brilliant, yeah?”
“Oh man! I never knew gargoyles were so tasty!” Buffy agreed as she finished the first and picked up another. “I thought they just sat up on the sides of churches to keep demons out.”
Spike laughed. “Not gargoyles, pet … and they’re no bloody good at keepin’ demons out – that’s an old wife’s tale. These are gougères. It’s basically a French cheese puff.”
Buffy scowled at him as she picked up another one. “Why didn’t you just say ‘cheese puff’ then?”
Spike shrugged. “Just bloody dense, I reckon.”
“You need to make these at home. I bet you could put all kinds of stuff in here, like … chocolate even!” she enthused with wide eyes and an even wider smile.
Spike laughed. “I think that would be called an éclair, luv.”
“Oh! I know that one! That’s French for ‘yummy’!” Buffy bragged with a confident nod.
Spike rolled his eyes and picked up a small éclair that had suddenly appeared on the tray and held it up to her lips. “Have some ‘yummy’ then, milady.”
Buffy’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth as Spike slid the small pastry between her lips. She bit down on it, cutting it in half, and crème filling gushed out the sides and covered her lips and his fingers. Buffy closed her eyes as she savored the sweet treat, rolling it around in her mouth and moaning in pleasure. Spike was certain that one day that moaning while she ate chocolate was gonna get her arrested for lewd and lascivious, but he loved hearing it. The only problem was she had taught that habit to Bess and, even worse, to Annie! Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to listen to your eleven year old daughter moan in pleasure at the kitchen table? Bloody frightening, it is!
Buffy opened her eyes and parted her chocolate covered lips again, the first bite of the pastry gone. Spike slid the remaining bite into her mouth, but before he could pull his fingers out, she grabbed his wrist and held his hand still. Buffy licked the sweet filling from his digits. Her tongue moving slowly over his chocolate-covered skin, twirling around one slender finger, then the other, in a sensuous motion that wasn’t helping the strain on his trousers any at all. When she started moving her lips up and down the length of his fingers, Spike had to let out a moan of his own. Note to self: include chocolate éclairs in every dream from now on.
Buffy laid her hand back down on Spike’s upper thigh and his hips jerked up slightly against her touch. He pulled his digits from her silken mouth and dropped his lips down against hers again, tasting the sweet icing and filling that still covered her mouth. He swirled his tongue over her lips, collecting the sweet filling that lingered there, and then quickly pressed it into her mouth. He touched his chocolaty tongue to hers, swirling it ‘round and ‘round in a slow, sensuous chocolate ballet. Buffy moaned as she licked the treat from his tongue and slid her hand up higher until she felt the hardness beneath the thin fabric of his dress slacks.
Jolts of electricity jumped from her hand to his cock and then out through his whole body. His cock twitched as his hips pressed up into the warmth of her hand. Bloody hell. He’d had more in mind here, more treats, more dances, more flowers, more champagne … but … damn she felt so fucking good. Everything she was doing felt like heaven. Her tongue wrapped around his, licking it clean, just as she’d done his fingers, her palm pressed against his hardness, making his erection throb in need of her. She uncrossed her legs and the aroma of her desire filled his senses with burning passion, then her other hand was at the nape of his neck, her fingers twirling in the short hair there and tickling heat down his body to meet the heat that was rising from below. This time it was his turn to pull away from the kiss, gasping for breath – not because he needed it, but because he was afraid if he didn’t he’d overheat and simply combust from within.
“Wake me up with your lips,” Buffy whispered to him, her green eyes smoldering, filled to overflowing with her own need.
“Your wish …” Spike began and he was suddenly gone.
Buffy looked on the tray for another éclair but frowned when there wasn’t another one there. “Abracadabra!” she exclaimed, waving her hand over the tray. Suddenly there was a pyramid of the pastries atop the tray, spilling over onto the tabletop and rolling onto the floor. She giggled in glee and picked one from the top of the pile and plopped it into her mouth greedily.
“Mmmmmm…” she purred, closing her eyes and savoring the rich chocolate and light pastry dough that filled her mouth with joy.
...Continued in next chapter ... too long to fit in one...