“Stubborn, self-righteous bitch,” Spike mumbled as he covered himself with his blanket and jumped into the sewers. “See if I come calling again!”
Hurt and pissed off from yet another rejection, Spike stomped through the slimy corridors of the underground passage, cursing and smoking and wishing he didn’t have a hard on. He really liked getting Buffy worked up, loved how easily she responded to even the slightest of touches. But he still had his pride, dammit!
The sexy little moan she let out when he shoved his hand down her pants to retrieve his lighter was enough to make a vampire bite his lip with barely contained lust. He knew if he pushed her just an inch farther, he’d have her back on the floor and his cock inside her and they’d both be screaming in no time. But he’d leave her wanting for a change. Leave with his head held high. Right before he grabbed his blankie like Linus from the Peanut Gallery.
“Fuck you!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the bricks. His boots sloshed through the water as he trudged along and he stopped to light another smoke. He did have a lot of catching up to do since she had his Zippo held hostage for so long.
“You know, you’re the one who attacked me in the first place,” he said to no one. “I was bein’ respectful of your coming back from the dead and all. You’re the one who kissed me first! And second! And you know what? Only so much a bloke can take before he moves on to someone softer ‘round the edges of sanity, so you better get your head in order little girl,” he said with a sneer, cool as you please, and started walking again.
Of course, he knew that moving on to someone else was a lie, but it didn’t really matter when you were lying to an empty sewer. Plus, angry vampire, here. Ranting and pacing and shouting were good for the soul. Or the…not-soul-having soul. Whatever. Point was, he felt better and fuck the bitch for screwing with his head all the time. And he’d been pacing for the better part of an hour. Losing track of time in a fit of anger was something he really should work on.
The closer he drew to his crypt he picked up a familiar scent coming from above the sewers. He’d been sniffing it out for a while now, usually only smelling it around Buffy these past few weeks. Someone was watching her, he knew, but he’d yet to find anything. He’d tried, of course, if nothing else but to get on the slayer’s good side. Curious, he followed his nose and tentatively pushed a manhole to the side as he covered his head with his blanket to protect it from the sun’s rays. Not seeing anything particularly threatening, he got to his feet above ground and remained in the shadows, sniffing the air once more for clues.
They were close, and if he didn’t know any better, so was Buffy. Making sure his balls were intact and his pride was sufficiently lodged in his cocky gait where it belonged, Spike waltzed out of the alley, as well as he could with a blanket on his head, towards the slayer.
“Bloody…” he said with a gasp when he saw her bounding across the street, noticing that she’d chopped her gorgeous mane off. Anger charged through him because he knew she’d done it just to spite him. Stupid bint didn’t know he’d fuck her no matter what she looked like. And he’d tell her that, too, as soon as he got to her. But he suddenly turned his head towards the sound of annoyed arguing, a magnetic, crackling, charging noise, and in the next instant, he was gone. All of him. Even his blanket.
“Balls!” he shouted, trying to run for cover, but he wasn’t even sizzling. He stopped in his tracks, right in the sun. Nothing. Not even a warm tingle.
Spike was invisible, like in the comic books invisible. Someone had turned him…
“Well, well.” He smiled, and if anyone had seen it, they’d notice how wicked it was.
“Time to have some fun,” he said, his eyes following the movements of the unknowing slayer as she walked down the street. “Starting with you.”
“Stupid, horny vampire,” Buffy mumbled to herself as she walked to the Magic Shop.
“This flapjack’s not ready to be flipped,” she said in a rather insulting tone, mocking Spike’s words from earlier that morning. It really was a poor impression of him. Didn’t even add in the sexy leer or anything.
“Bitch,” Spike mumbled to himself. Of course he’d been following her.
“Never again, Buffy. No more likey Spikey.” She frowned at her own vernacular. “Whatever, you know what you mean. Talking to yourself…stopping now.”
Spike couldn’t help but snicker. Buffy spun around.
“Who’s there?”
Spike stilled. He could be quiet. As quiet as death.
Buffy frowned, looking down the street, looking right through Spike who was just a few feet away. Seeing nothing, she shrugged, then turned around and started to walk again. He couldn’t resist, so he caught up to her and pinched her on the ass. She shrieked and he ducked, right as she swung her fist around to clock a pervert in the jaw. Only, there was no pervert. There wasn’t anyone.
Irritated yet cautious, Buffy said, “Spike?”
Well, fuck him! Was he that obvious? Still, though, wasn’t going to give in just yet. Not when he’d barely tried out his new features. So he stayed quiet.
She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. “I know someone is there. So just come on out now and let me kick your ass so I can go back to ruining my life, please.”
Ruining her life? This wasn’t fun. Not at all.
“Fine, whatever. I don’t have time for this.” She turned back around and quickly walked down the street.
He followed, but he kept his hands to himself. He'd wait until it was fun again, when she was all fired up about something. Not when she was gloomy and depressing and blaming herself for things that weren’t her fault. Plus, she was going to the Magic Box. Lots of fun to be had in front of her mates.
He dashed into the shop behind her before the door closed, smiling when he saw Xander and Anya. This was going to be fun.
“Buffy! Your hair! It’s adorable!” Anya said loudly. Then she quickly got back to business and said, “Now, you don’t mind if we sit you next to Xander’s cousins, do you?” She waved a sticky note in the air. Xander smiled apologetically.
“Uh…whatever’s fine with me,” Buffy replied, plopping her purse down on the checkout counter.
“So, why the chop-chop, Buff?” Xander asked, wanting nothing more than a change of subject from the seating arrangement of his wedding reception.
Spike waited for Anya’s attention to turn towards the slayer before he moved her carefully planned-out place settings around on the makeshift floor plan she had of the reception hall. Petty? Yes. Hilarious? Absolutely. Especially when he put the watcher next to a Thorlak demon and someone named Napoleon Bone Apart. Had to be promising. And, wasn’t that sweet? Anya put Spike right next to the slayer. Knew he liked her for a reason.
“No hidden agenda,” Buffy replied, leaning against the counter. “I just wanted to be different.” They missed her meaning, but Spike hadn’t. She really needed to lighten up and let herself have some fun. Like he was about to do.
“You know, I was thinking of cutting my hair for the wedding. Maybe getting it layered.”
While the girls were talking, Spike stuck his finger all the way in his mouth. Then he stuck it in Xander’s ear.
Xander swatted at his head with a grimace and Spike covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Anya!”
“What?” she said innocently, putting new post-its on her fingers.
“Don’t start open fire around civilians,” Xander said in a private code that they’d obviously established between one another.
“My hands and my tongue are right here! Have been the whole time!” She pouted, and Buffy’s mouth opened slightly as she tried to figure out what just happened.
Boring, Spike thought. So he stood right next to Buffy, as close as he could without touching her. He smiled as he watched the tiny hairs on her arms stand at attention. She rubbed them with her hands and frowned.
“Anya, did you turn down the AC?”
“I’m in your head,” Spike whispered spookily, right by her ear.
Buffy’s eyes widened. “Did you guys hear that?”
Anya and Xander looked up at her, shaking their heads in the negative.
“So I’m going crazy,” she whispered.
“You’re not going crazy. What you need is a really good deep-dicking from a sexy vampire,” he said, very Vincent Price like.
Buffy’s cheeks turned red and she swallowed. “Is there any coffee in the storage room? I don’t think I got any sleep.”
“Because you were thinking about how much you want vamp cock,” Spike said again. “Got you so worked up you cut your hair off in a fit of defiance, but you still want it, don’t you, Slayer?” He followed after her with a gigantic smile on his face as she abruptly headed to the back room.
“Ok, I know I think about Spike way more than I should, but now I’m thinking like him,” she said to herself as she poured a cup of coffee. “And wow, do I have a dirty mind.”
“So dirty,” Spike said sexily, trailing his hands over her arms a hairsbreadth away from actually touching her. “Bet you’d like it if I were here right now. Press you up against the shelves…”
He was going to do more, say more, drive her over the edge. But then he watched her close her eyes, lick her lips and breathe the words, “Mm, I would,” as one of her hands trailed down her sternum, over her breasts. If he needed to breathe, he’d be fucking hyperventilating right now. She was getting off on it. Knew she wanted him!
Spike touched her, slid his hand beneath her top to press it against her belly and she gasped, looked down and saw her shirt moving but nothing around it to tell her why.
“It’s your imagination,” he said softly, and slid his hand further up her shirt to pinch one already hard nipple between his fingers.
“Spike,” she breathed, “are you…what…”
“Not here,” he said, “just a mirage.”
“Doesn’t feel like one,” she said with a smile. “God, I hope this isn’t another one of those magic repeat days. Or wait…maybe I do.” She tilted her head and started to fidget a bit when her top had suddenly been stripped from her body amid her horny daydreaming.
“What’s happening? Ok, this is…” She backed up and shook her head, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Get it together, Buffy.”
Spike sighed. “It’s me.”
“You? Spike? But…you’re…where are you?” She spun around in adorable half-naked circles, looking for him.
He picked up a jar of raven claws from the overstock shelves and tossed it in the air, catching it in his unseen hand. “Turned invisible somehow. Don’t know how long it’ll last, though.”
Buffy’s eyes widened comically as she watched the jar move, seemingly of its own accord. “Holy moly!” She walked towards him, waving her hand to try and touch him, but she was way off course. “Where are you?”
The sound of a zipper sliding open sounded out, then a low, silky chuckle, and then he grabbed Buffy’s hand and pulled it forward, wrapping it around something hard and soft, though she couldn’t see what. She gasped when she figured it out, Spike moaned, and then his hands were on her breasts.
“What-what are you…We can’t do this here,” she said uselessly, sighing amorously when his lips descended onto her neck.
“Course we can, Slayer. Already halfway there,” he said huskily, thrusting into her hand to remind her that she was still clutching his cock.
“Feels like you’re all the way there,” she said bashfully, closing her eyes to imagine what he looked like when he took one of her nipples in his mouth. “How did this happen? What if… They could come down here.”
He’d snaked a hand down the front of her skirt to touch her thigh, started nibbling on her jugular which she really wished she didn’t enjoy so much, and he said, “Just Anya working today and they’re busy singing wedding bells. If they do come down here, they’ll just see you.”
Buffy was too busy stifling a squeal when his fingers wiggled over her panties to reply to that. He was a lot bolder than before, which was really saying something. She wondered if he was looking in her eyes as he touched her, something she hadn’t let him do before. She closed them. “They’ll just see me…practically naked and humping the air.”
“Right.” Was he smiling there? It sounded like he might be.
“Oh, God,” she cried out softly, feeling his fingers enter her, his wet mouth on her nipples again, and he began backing her up to a nearby wooden table. She looked behind her to make sure it wasn’t filled with mummy hands, and then she let him pick her up and plop her ass down on it when the coast was clear.
“Like it better this way, don’t you?” he was saying, and she wished for a minute that she could see the look on his face when he spread her legs wide. All she saw was the floor below her, the dark storage room, an empty space. Then his hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt up all the way and she started trembling. Even without the evidence of his presence, Spike could make her body sing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking abou—oh!” Something wet glided up her center, flicked over her clit. His tongue? A finger?
“Don’t have to see me,” he said, as something hard wriggled its way into her. Definitely his finger this time, and when she felt his breath on her wet pussy, she started panting. “No one has to know what we’re doing.” He was fucking her with his fingers now, and she could feel his lips hovering, teasing. But when she opened her eyes, there was nothing there, nothing but her sex, exposed to the ether.
She reached down to grab his hair, to guide his mouth to her clit so he’d stop talking, but when she dropped her hand where she was sure his head would be, she met air instead and frowned.
And he was looking at her, right into her eyes as his fingers worked her into a nice lather. Looking at her this way felt strange, like he was spying on her. But he’d soak it up now, not knowing how permanent this invisibility really was. He didn’t miss the disappointed pout on her lips when she tried to touch him and failed, and something in that meant more to him than he could ever put into words. So he rewarded the both of them by sucking her clit into his mouth, humming into her sodden folds.
“Yes!” she whispered loudly, and this time her fingers wove into his hair, trapping him. “You could move in with me,” she was saying through her blissful smile, her shoulders moving up and down as his mouth became greedier.
Then he lifted his head and looked at her, forgetting that she couldn’t see the shocked expression on his face. His fingers never stopped, though. “Say that again?”
Her fingernails scratched his scalp, she pinched her lower lip with her teeth, her hips thrust in time with his fingers. “Hurry, they could come down here any second.”
He wasn’t one to mince words, not when she was asking, so he stood up tall and tapped the tip of his erection on her clit, smirking when she cooed in approval. She wiggled her ass to the edge of the table, seeking him out. “That’s what I want,” she said, smiling sleepily, rubbing her hands up his chest to his shoulders.
“You really do like this better, don’t you?” She was almost eager to take him this way, laughing and smiling as if they were old lovers. Buffy had never done that so far, hadn’t ever been so…accepting.
“Why are you complaining? Isn’t this what you want?”
“What I want…” He shook his head, got angry. This wasn’t right. “The only reason you’re letting me do this is because you’ve convinced yourself I’m not really here. Could be anyone. Not real to you, is it?”
He grabbed her by the back of the head, tangling his fingers in her hair to hold her face an inch away from his. She gasped.
“I’m right here, Buffy,” he said angrily, entering her without wasting any time, without releasing his grip on her hair, keeping his eyes locked with hers though she couldn’t see his. “And I see you. I see you. Mouth wet, pussy throbbing, wanting me. You. Want. Me.”
She wanted to fight him, he could see her mouth tensing up, but she wanted his cock too badly to start in on him with the insults now. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he was surprised that she didn’t close her eyes, surprised when her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Yeah, you want this, but you’re too ashamed to admit it,” he said, his hips pounding inside her. God, even though he was furious with the realizations, he couldn’t help needing her, couldn’t stop moaning when she squeezed her pussy around his prick.
“Be right nice for you, wouldn’t it? Live-in cabana boy to soothe your aches,” he said, fucking her so hard the table rocked beneath her, tugging her head back so he could lick her neck, exhale his want onto her. “Your little secret.”
It was hard to tell, but it seemed like she was looking right at him then. But she wasn’t angry any more. She was…
“I don’t know how else to keep you,” she said quietly, her head moving to the side, her hands sliding onto his back and pulling him forward into an embrace. To say he was shocked was an understatement, but she was holding him like a lover, slowing down the pace of her hips, kissing his cheek.
“Buffy…”
She didn’t want to admit that she needed him, all of him. She held him close so he couldn’t figure it out for himself when he looked in her eyes. He moved inside her lazily, his hand releasing her hair, sweeping down her back to caress her ass, and she hated that the first time she’d allowed his tenderness was at a time that she couldn’t see his face.
“Are you here?” she said quietly. “Really, really?”
He laughed against her neck, then he kissed her there, pivoted his hips and eliciting a sweet mewl from her lips. “I’m here.”
Her eyes closed, head lolling back as he slid in and out, she said, “Tell me what you’re looking at.”
It was nice to smile easily around her, to get his fill, watch her pussy stretch from the girth of his invisible cock, a sight he’d never really be able to see before this happened to him. “Us.”
Before he knew it, she’d snaked her hand around his neck, rose up a bit, and smashed her lips against his in a passionate kiss that had his knees wobbling. She was about to come, and she was squeezing him so good that he knew he’d be going right along with her. Then her teeth dug into his neck so hard he couldn’t stop the growl that spilled from his lips.
Both hands on her ass, he tugged her into every thrust, grinding on the upstroke against her clit. She took every blow, grunting and clamping down on his neck roughly, and he knew she’d leave a bruise. Then she let out a muffled cry against his skin, released him so she could breathe, and he watched her eyes darken, glass over, and search the air for his face. He put one hand on her cheek, turned her head to look directly at him.
“Right here. You’re looking right at me,” he reassured her, suddenly moaning when he started to come. She kissed him so softly, her eyes open, just as she had the day she’d thanked him for keeping Dawn’s secret from Glory. So chaste, so sweet, so grateful. His eyes misted over and his hips collided with hers for a final burst of pleasure that filled him to the brim.
Instead of pushing him off, avoiding what they’d done; instead of shying away and telling him how disgusting he was, she kept him nestled inside her, touched his cheeks, his shoulders. She handled him as if exploring for the first time, but how could she when nothing was there to see?
After a long while of the softest, gentlest touches he’d ever known, touches that were making him feel a bit like a prissy boy from all the giddy feelings of love fluttering inside of him, she inhaled through her nose sharply, as if waking from a daydream. “I can’t do this.”
His chest clenched, his mouth dropped open, and he stood dumbfounded, unable to protest as she pushed him away and got down from the table. She picked her shirt up from the floor and slid it on.
“You…even this way you deny me,” he said, his ire bubbling.
She spun around to where the sound of his voice had been, her eyes searching the darkness for him. “What? No…I mean the you being invisible thing.”
He zipped up his jeans, pouting, wishing she could see that. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint!”
Her eyebrows lowered in confusion. “Spike, we need to find a way to get you back to normal.”
He inhaled. “Oh. Right. I knew that.”
“As fun as that was,” she said, looking at the ground shyly, like a little school girl, “I like it better when…”
Oh, say it. Say it, you beautiful thing. He took a step forward, making her gasp a bit when his hands touched her shoulders. “When what?”
“When I can see you.” She chewed on her lip, waiting for him to say something. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I do,” he said softly, running his fingers through her hair. Her eyelashes fluttered. “This won’t last.” He kissed her, but she pushed him away slightly.
“You’re so sure?”
“Know you, love. Soon as I’m back to normal, you’ll remember why you hate me.” He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see.
“I never hated you,” she admitted. After a long silence filled with Spike’s shock, she straightened up and walked to the stairs. She turned around once she was on the first step and said, “You coming home with me or not?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was sweetness in her voice when she said, “How else can I keep track of you while you’re invisible? Need you around until we can fix it.”
He smiled, and when she did too, he wondered if she knew him well enough to anticipate his reaction. “When you put it that way.” He followed her up the stairs.
“Besides,” she whispered so that Xander and Anya couldn’t hear, “who says we can’t have fun until we figure it out?”
“Don’t flirt so close to your friends, sweetheart.” She flinched only a little bit when he grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Then she relaxed and squeezed his hand reassuringly. They stood side by side in front of her friends, holding hands, and Spike tried to tell himself not to get used to it.
“Did something break down there?” Anya asked, post-its still on her fingers.
“Yeah, we heard a ruckus,” Xander said.
“Oh, uh…I couldn’t figure out the coffee maker. Got a little aggressive,” she said, laughing nervously.
Spike pulled her towards the door, making Buffy look a little strange with one arm extended. “See you later!” she said cheerily, waving as they walked out of the magic shop together.
“How hard is it to press one button?” Xander asked, baffled that a little coffee maker had caused so much grief.
“She’s never been very good with kitchen stuff,” Anya said with a shrug.
“Yes! Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Yeah, you like that, Buffy?” Spike said, spatula in his hand as he smacked the slayer’s ass with it over and over, fingers twisting inside her pussy. He had her bent over the kitchen island, her sweet ass up in the air so he could do what he wanted to it.
“Uh huh! Flip me! Flip me!”
Laughing, he turned her naked body onto her back on the island, watching her giggle as she rubbed flour over his chest so that she could see it. “Gonna get messy, pet.”
“Good. I like messy.” He entered her in one stroke, snickering when she patted his cheeks with her floury hands. “Maybe I’ll cover you in milk next time.”
“Next time? Thought we were going to figure out how to—oh motherfuck—get me un-invisible? Holy…keep doing that.”
“We will,” she said breathily, pinching his nipples and taking a moment to suck on his bottom lip. “After pancakes.”
“And a bath.” He lifted her legs over his shoulders, smearing white down her thighs from his flour-covered hands.
“Ooh, bubble Spike.” She was laughing huskily, her mind already wondering towards the many possibilities of an invisible lover.
He rolled his eyes, pressed his thumb against her clit and plowed into her. “Pervert.”
“Complaining?”
“Not in the slightest.” Not when he was balls-deep inside her, he wasn’t.
“Ok, bath—ooh! Yes, Spike!—then pancakes. Oh, God! Then we’re going to crack this mystery.”
“No more talking,” he said, seconds from coming. “Gotta…need…”
She lurched forward, bit him on the same spot on his neck, and he roared his praises, arms banding around her middle as he fucked her into fruition. He shivered above her, smiling when she kissed his cheek before she collapsed onto her back on the kitchen island.
“I could get used to this.” She smiled up at him, her little toes digging into his chest, her arms splayed wide and open, not hiding a thing.
“Me too, Slayer,” he said, moving her legs to the side so he could lean down and kiss her.
“I miss your smirks, though” she said, smiling as he nuzzled her neck.
“That right?”
“Mmhmm. Pretty,” she said dreamily as he started moving inside her again. He chuckled sweetly against her cheek. Then she swatted him hard on the ass with the spatula he’d dropped beside her. “Wait a second, bath! Bath!”
He yanked it from her grasp and tossed it on the floor, and then he pivoted his hips the way she liked. “One more, then bath.”
“Then pancakes,” she said atop a moan.
“Right. Then the other thing.”
“Good plan.” Their mouths fused in a heated kiss, and they wouldn’t think about research again. Not until the sun went down.