Nanny Spike and Aunt Buffy
by Megan
Written as Ravenesque
Chapter Seven
Buffy could hear Spike in the other room; it sounded like he was singing to Lia while he was getting the baby dressed and settling back to sleep. The imagined sound of Spike’s steps forced movement into Buffy’s limbs and she dried herself in a fury of towel fluff, almost left whimpering when she went to dress and came to the sad conclusion she had nothing to wear. Her panties on, she was horribly aware that she had nothing else but the decorative tangle of her towel around her body. Feeling a nervous shake seize her limbs, Buffy looked desperately around the bathroom, hoping for something other than the reality of nothing. And then she saw it and her relief was almost painful.
By the time Spike walked through the doorway, a smirk firmly in place, she had donned his discarded black T-shirt. Despite the fact that she was feeling rather exposed, Buffy twisted her lips into a stubborn line of irritation, unable to tear her eyes away even as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops. She gulped as his fingers released the first button on his jeans, feeling the jolt as each following button popped open and then he was naked, standing proud and erect in front of her. Every sour word she had gathered for her rant about his audacity flew right out of her brain as her eyes were drawn dangerously to his jutting form.
Feeling a bout of shakes surge through her body, Buffy slammed her eyelids closed and squeezed them tight for that added security measure.
“I am so ignoring this situation. The last hour has been completely wiped from my brain and anything I have seen and…and…” Her lip wobbled as her body attempted to force her to relive those mind-blowing moments when Spike’s fingers played with her.
Her eyes shot open at his amused chuckle, forgetting that he stood full on frontal and showing her things she had never really seen before.
“Gahhhhh,” she screamed, frustrated tears prickling at her eyes. She turned on her heel, intent on making it to the door, only to have it closed before she got there. Not slammed, ‘cause that’d wake up the baby. But she collapsed against it, defeat in every limb and then whimpered as something hard pressed her into the wood.
‘Spike chest, Spike chest’, she repeated in her mind, feeling the glorious nakedness of his muscles as his cool skin burned through the back of the thin cotton. Her palms rested flat on the door as she felt his hands settle playfully on her hips. Then they swept down and hiked up underneath his own shirt and rested over the thin string of her panties, scorching her skin as he again rested on her hips.
Her breath ceased to flow, caught in her throat as if she had forgotten the trick of breathing, only a thing learned and practised religiously for the last nineteen years.
“Sp…” His name didn’t even quite pass her lips as a heavy weight collapsed in her belly. She’d felt something move. Something twitched against the cleft of her barely covered ass and the moan was caught in her throat as well. The build-up was making her flush; making her shake in fear, and anticipation, and excitement and desire.
She wanted to move—run out of there screaming like a woman abused.
She didn’t want to move. Wanted to push herself back onto him, feel his thickness slide between her legs and rub against the nub that was desperate for further attention. And then because she obviously had no self-control and she was about to burst, she did, feeling his hands clamp onto her flesh as he held her against him. Her panties were useless—too thin and now sopping wet and soggy as the friction increased. The electricity that was passing through her body at his touch sent tiny shocked bumps to mount a revolt on her whole body.
He moved, pulled his pelvis back so that the tip of his erection bumped her hole as he left, before oh so slowly rolling back, stopping only as the belled head teased her swollen clit.
And finally it exploded from her throat—the breath she’d held, the moan and now the mini pants and cries as his hands swept up her ribcage.
Her head fell back on his shoulder when he had at last reached her breasts, letting the underswell rest in the cup of his hands while his limber thumbs rubbed against her sensitive nipples. She was so wet she could smell her own arousal, knowing that the scent must be overpowering for a vampire, and somewhere in the back of her mind that fact made her feel proud.
“Spike? We have to stop,” she told him, force lacking from her voice as she moved over him again, wanting him to abandon her upper half and tear her panties away from her body. “This is so wrong,” she couldn’t help point out the second she grabbed one of his hands and directed it to her panties. She didn’t want to make all the suggestions, but God! She was so stimulated, so wet. And he was here, behind her and so gorgeous and sexy and dangerous and strong, and thank God he had a brain!
She felt his lips at her neck, blowing cool air over the wet marks left by his tongue, kissing it before latching on and sucking some more. His hand brushed over the front of her panties before going back to the side band, and then she was quivering. All turned to jelly as her panties were dragged down her thighs and left in a sodden puddle at her feet. It was so easy to step out of them in her still bare feet.
By the time she realised that his cock was now rubbing her bare, moist flesh it was too late. She’d left for lala land and she wasn’t coming back until the end of the road.
“We’ll stop, pet,” he whispered in her ear and Buffy almost sobbed her objection. “When we’re completely bloody satisfied we’ll finish. Already playin’ mum and dad, may as well work with the fringe benefits.”
She had no clue what he was saying—other than that he wasn’t going to stop. Was going to push her until her face was mashed into the door. But it wasn’t enough; her body was covered and turned away from him. Her pussy ached so badly and her nipples were almost screaming out with her intense need for friction that it was enough to finally get her hands off the door. Within seconds the black cotton tee lay in a heap on the floor and she felt him fully against her skin, finding herself writhing on the flat edge of his cock as he continued to tease her.
She needed stuff so bad, needed to feel him and burn him. One arm curled behind her, drawing his face to hers. Lust-drugged lids barely took in the sight of the other’s capitulation as she dived on his mouth, memories of Spike lips flooding her mind and turning her on even more.
Then he spun her around, diving on her mouth as he sucked the life right out of her. Certainly her sense as he pulled her leg around his hip. A little jump and she had both clamped tight around his waist, feeling her teeth clench as he tried to keep his cock away from her slippery tunnel, seeping now in enthusiasm to take him in. A hand reached for him and directed him to the place, and he stretched her opening.
“Arrggghhh,” seemed strangled from his throat as she sucked him all the way in, her mouth claiming his tongue in an erotic mirror-image. Then she found her back slammed against the door and he was thrusting into her with all the power of an extremely horny vamp, letting go of her lips to alternate little sharp nips at her nipples, at her throat. His hands made prints on her ass as he squeezed her around him, holding her tight.
It was fast and furious, a mindless round of animal instinct and Slayer loss of control. It was like she didn’t understand when his demon appeared in front of her, only looked on in fascination as hot amber eyes burned her senses. His teeth actually seemed desirable, and having no idea what she did, she tilted her head to the side, writhing and moaning when sharp points slit her skin was slammed out with pussy pulsing pleasure.
She held his face to her, bucking against him like a desperate wanton. Everything hurt in the most exquisite way and as the climax finally hit, she could feel everything so intensely. Could smell her own blood along with the spill between her thighs. She could hear her thundering heartbeat, Spike’s desperate pants for useless breath. Could feel the warmth of the door at her back and the heat of their bodies joined. And what she felt most, was the rightness of how it all was.
It was too much, the day had blown her right away with things she had never expected. Sure, Willow’s spell had given her ideas—ones she had taken firm action in dismissing from her mind, even if she slipped up now and then. But to think of herself with the evil vampire like this? She’d never allowed herself to wallow there. And now she had the reality and it was never going to leave her head.
Tears were strong in their push for release, so when her cheeks felt wet, she couldn’t even be surprised. When her body slowly slid down the door, his fangs and cock deserting her, they fell even faster. But rather than admit that what had happened was so, so beyond good, Buffy resorted to defense. One look into his shocked face made her want to cave in and hug him, hold him close while they calmed. Even try that afterglow concept out. But it wasn’t her. She was the Slayer, with a new set of fang-marks for her stupidity. And how could he do that again?
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to lick his bottom lip. She wanted to reassure him that it was all okay, that they’d work it out—just not yet. Not now.
She hit him. One big slap across the face for the affronted girl’s sake. The embarrassed, shy girl who had just had her first time with the evil vampire up a door. How unromantic was that!
She remained speechless as she snatched up her discarded panties and tee and left the room, determinedly ignoring his look of hurt and the red handprint on his cheek.
Chapter Eight
Spike clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. Bloody bitch! Always with the hit and run. Didn’t help that he felt something kind of twitchy. Felt a little like guilt—but that couldn’t be right. He didn’t do guilt. Big Bad here. He scratched his head, rubbed his abs and succumbed to being at a complete loss. What the bleeding hell was a bloke to do when he’d just had an awesome shag and the silly bint couldn’t recognise the power of it?
Well, he was naked and he’d be buggered if he was going to stand around making a fool of himself while she went to hide in the living room. He twisted the faucets on and a burst of heat created a cloud of steam to immediately filter throughout the bathroom. Just before he was about to step into the tub, he saw her small pile of dirty clothing and with a groan of self-disgust, he took them into the water with him.
Soap and water got her top and pants clean and he set them on the side of the tub while he swished his own body with a soapfest. He loved the smell of soap. Not many vamps used it so it was nice when he smelled fresh amongst the refuse of the rest of his kind.
Cleaned and dried, he was left shirtless as he got his jeans back on and cinched up his belt. Spike didn’t mind, though. How could he when he had the comfort of Buffy boob imprints when she threw it back in his face?
Problem was, they had to go out. The little bit needed some clothes and a cot, and a pram. Rupert left money and it was time to go shopping. However, as fetching as Buffy might be in his black T-shirt and knickers, he didn’t think security would let her get far at the mall.
So what he needed was a dryer, and as Rupert obviously didn’t have a washer, he seriously doubted he was going to find the laundry companion. What to do, what to do?
“Slayer,” he called to her, determined to ignore the way she’d covered herself in watcher tweed while she hid in the farthest corner of the sofa.
Her eyes watched him, skittish, and her lips were wordless. He could read nothing of how she felt about their earlier interlude in her face and he rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“Gotta go shoppin’ for the midget, pet. You’ll need some clothes as I’ll wager you’ll want some input in what we get for her. Clothes and some other essentials.”
She nodded, her eyes wide as she felt her body go taut against the thin cloth that covered her.
“I don’t have anything else here. And I wouldn’t be caught dead at the mall in anything from you or Giles.”
Spike felt a smirk tickle his lips. There she was, riled up and ready to shoot her mouth off at him. If only he could shoot something into it rather than put up with the abuse that would come out.
“Right then. I washed your other stuff, but Rupert doesn’t have a dryer. Any suggestions?”
Buffy raised a brow, perplexed that he’d done something so helpful as wash her clothes after what she’d just done. Which didn’t mean she was going to jump in and fix the situation.
“I could call Willow and have her bring some of my stuff over?”
“Or I could just go over and pick it up. Be faster—you know, vamp speed.” He leered at her, hoping she’d say yes so he could have a little gander at what little snippets of lace the little red witch might see fit to include.
“Nah uh, too dangerous, Big Bad. Commandos after your butt, remember?”
He frowned in irritation, sick of his life being held captive to a bunch of weak pussywillows—hiding behind their nifty little vamp-zappers so they could neuter those far more powerful than themselves. Wankers!
He flopped down on the couch, defeat obvious in the slump of his shoulders and the bow of his head as he stared at the carpet, completely missing the hot stare Buffy treated his bare upper half before she staggered over to the phone.
In his head Spike was brutalising the little poofter soldiers in every way imaginable. He was peeling back their scalp to drill in monster shards of metal, shocking their little pea-brains with a direct blast of electricity. He was carving up their genitals so they could feel as impotent as he did. He mumbled the violent images all the while that Buffy gave her directions to Willow. When he left the thoughts behind and looked up again it was to a face of Slayer grins.
“Guess you want to hurt them, dontcha?”
He nodded vigorously, for a second thinking that she was going to actually let him.
“Pity you’ve got that chip in your head. Makes you all, flaccid?” she offered with an evil laugh.
“Didn’t hear you callin’ me flaccid just a while ago now, did I, pet?”
He hit her with his own burst of evil hilarity as her face burned red.
“Willow is bringing my stuff over right away. Xander was over there so he can get her here safely.”
“Oh, bleeding brilliant. Jus’ what I need, the bloody whelp seeing you in your knickers and my T-shirt. Bloody marvellous.”
Spike’s eyes goggled as Buffy sashayed her way over to where he sat and lifted the shirt over her head. She straddled his lap, grinding her pelvis against his hardness. “Do you think it would be better if he see me like this?” she asked, her voice coy and mischievous.
Spike stiffened—in more than one way.
“Are you gonna belt me again if I touch you?” He surveyed the perkiness that bounced gently right in front of his mouth and felt his fangs subtly piercing the gum as they sat and waited.
The way she tilted her head to the side, watching him with a nervousness betrayed only by the pounding of her heartbeat, captivated him completely, and so without waiting for her reply of positive or negative, he latched hold of one juicy pink nipple and sucked on it hard.
“Eep,” she squeaked. “You’re so…bad,” she told him, already writhing with the piercing pleasure of his blunt teeth scraping over the tip of her nipple. “Sp-Spike?”
He buried his teeth in her breast, fangs slipping past the soft flesh to mark her again. Not a lot of blood spurt into his mouth but it was enough to get him as hard as a straining erection could possibly be. He supped at her flesh, his mouth holding on to her with a tight suction as she gyrated in his lap. His hands on one side of her panties stretched the fabric taut until it split, leaving her crotchless with the cloth hanging from one leg. Her flesh met the stiff fabric of his jeans and his demon was going wild with the scent she was transferring to his clothes.
His demon receded through Spike’s force, letting go of her nipple and flesh so he could drag her lips to his. They’d not done enough of the kissing. So he held her head with one hand as his other loosened his zip and his cock sprung free and tall. Then he was directing himself to her slick hole, no thought in his mind other than he needed desperately to get inside. One smooth upward thrust and he met the edge of her womb, tickling the surface and leaving her writhing uncontrollably while she gasped around his lips. Her sensitive nubs rubbed like static friction against his chest as she bounced up and down on his cock.
Then she arched her back and she started leaning back, her hands holding his shins as her hair brushed the floor. Her moans got louder as Spike took control of the movement and he propelled himself into her with avid thrusts. He felt the bounce of her body and it made him harder and frantic, felt the tip of his cock brush against the small protruding bundle of nerves that had her panting and sobbing in need. His hand stroked her belly as he held her with the other, himself falling forward a little as he fell to his knees on the floor, her pelvis arched in his lap and her back close to lying flat. It was so erotic, so hot that he could now touch her tits and pinch the tantalising little pink peaks into hard and aching little peas. He bent her legs and directed them around his neck and started to pound her into the ground, his cock swollen and needy for the end. For the pinnacle that would see his juice flow out of her and tickle her arse crack.
He could feel her muscles pulsing around him, could feel the push of his cum in his balls as it told him to let go. He did so with a shout of pure satisfaction when her hand cupped his balls, giving a firm squeeze before she bucked at him a little more. Knowing that Willow was probably getting close to being at the flat, he grinned as he recognised the excuse. He pulled out his cock and milked it on Buffy’s breasts, little spurts catching at her bottom lip. His finger latched hold of her clit and he rubbed—distracting her burst of vitriol with a little mindless end to their activity.
It was firmly set in Spike’s mind that they were screwed. And not so much in the good way. He’d had her now, felt the warmth of her pussy and her blood and if he had to stay and help out with a baby, there was no way, no how he was giving this little sideline up.
Their breaths matched as they desperately gasped for air. Despite not needing the air to expand his lungs and promote speech, it was Buffy that came to first.
“Oh My God,” she said, her legs still would around his neck and licking experimentally at the pearl of dead semen on her lip. Her face screwed up waiting for the moment of ewww, but it wasn’t there. As she tasted her once mortal enemy, he took to rubbing his spendings into her nipples, delighting in the slick movement of his fingers over her flesh. He only stopped when he smelt approaching danger.
“Right you are, pet. But it might help if you take to thankin’ the Big Bad. God had little to do with it. An’ now you need to wash up. I’ll get your bag from the witch.” His sentence finished with a full stop of a knock at the door. Buffy shot him a panicked glance as she fell about untangling herself from his neck. He grinned as he spanked her arse hard, laughing low in his throat at her heated glare as she ran for the bathroom.
Spike stood, tucked himself into his jeans and slinked back into his tee, already loving the warmth of Buffy boobs against his pecs. Christ it was erotic and had him wanting the little spitfire Slayer all over again. Still, first things first.
Lia woke up just as he opened the door. Spike grinned proudly at his little girl who knew just when to keep to sleep, so dad could get in his not so little poke.
Willow stood at the door with a nervous smile, offering her equally nervous wave as she offered the bag. The sound of the baby had her rushing by Spike, though, as she raced over to pick Lia up.
“She’s so adowable,” Willow pouted at the tiny Ophelia, rubbing the baby’s chubby cheeks in an expression of delight. “Where’s Buffy?” she asked, looking around Giles’s apartment curiously.
“In the shower. Baby puked on ‘er. Bloody hilarious. Slayer freaking over munchkin vomit. She of the one used to wearing demon slime on an almost nightly rate.” He chuckled as he collapsed back on the sofa, imagining again slick slayer skin as she was probably washing him off her body.
No doubt about it the night was turning into something quite memorable.
He rolled his eyes back as an emasculating thought bounced around his brain in a similar enthusiasm to when she’d bounced on his cock. If he could just get the bint moving so they could go do some shopping!
Chapter Nine
What on earth was wrong with her? Buffy stood once again in the shower, hot pulsing water washing essence of Spike from her body. The memory of what he’d done, what he’d sprayed all over her; it set a fire in her belly that just kept building and causing the rational part of her brain—the part that was saying she should grab stake, dust now, think later—to completely and uselessly shut down. She was a Slayer of sensation now; a girl balanced on the precipice of change, of growth that might just connect on too many levels with a dangerous vampire.
It scared the living crap out of her.
That she really, really enjoyed what they had done—that she rejoiced in every new, softer layer of Spike that was uncovered—was really beside any kind of point she could think of.
Okay, deep breaths. Who needed points anyway? Then her mind wandered to lovely hard points that did so well at pointing out certain spots that it made her garble incoherently a language completely foreign to her. Alrighty then. Spike had a nice point, of the rounded fleshy kind. And it brought up many, interesting…points. But no way could she let this go any further. Her own best-friend could have just walked in on her while Spike sprayed her with his load and she lay there like a ho and licked her lips clean.
Buffy whimpered at her riot of thoughts as she attempted to scrub herself clean, but then her hand slowed and she thought again of him rubbing his cool fingers in the slimy mess and how it had warmed every cell in her body.
Deep breaths just weren’t cutting it. The bathroom suddenly held too many memories. Her first time with Spike. Sex with Spike. Her third time ever in the intimate realm of sex, and despite the venue—which even she couldn’t deny was way hot—it was by far the moment that blew the lid off her preconceptions of sex. Spike blew the lid off everything. And what was she thinking again? Oh yeah, she was thinking with that thing that was reacting to the cool slide of him between her legs.
Gahhhh. Stop. Thinking. Now!
Right, what had he sent her in here for? Other than to hide from the all-seeing, all-knowing eyes of her witchy friend? Shopping. The thought brought a wide and almost painfully excited smile to her lips.
SHOPPING!! Oh God, this was gonna be such a blast. Someone else’s money, to splash out and really spoil a girl. So, that girl was a baby on this occasion. Buffy could work with that. She could see pretty pink sleepsuits and funky coloured socks already. And those adorable curls. Did they have baby hair accessories?
The enthusiasm of this venture swept her mind clear of the other more confusing thoughts and she rushed through her shower, drying and tucking the towel around her body once again. She’d left Spike’s T-shirt out in the living room—not that Willow should really see her in such a thing. Buffy blushed already just imagining the questions and raised eyebrows.
It left her resorting to squeezing her head through a small gap of the opened door and trying to get the attention of her friend, indicating a need for her bag of clothes while determinedly ignoring the leering vampire that had her heart thumping wildly. She didn’t even need to lay eyes on him to know he was trying to see her through the narrow slit of the door. Evil peeping vamp!
Oh God! Buffy thought, relief relaxing all her limbs as she snagged her pack from Willow and dived into it to find something to wear. The horrible colour clashes and completely mismatched items of clothing caused Buffy to cringe—finally accepting how negligent she had been as a friend in not trying to take Willow’s quirky style a little more in hand.
A tight orange spandex top fell out first, and Buffy nearly collapsed when she managed to find some close fitting black pants that would go okay. Not how she usually wore either of these two things, but beggers so weren’t choosers right now. This definitely wouldn’t be too bad, she decided with a nod. She was dressed, hair brushed and make-up applied within the next twenty minutes.
Just as she packed away her left over belongings there was a harsh thump on the bathroom door.
“Bleeding hell, Slayer. We’re only going to the bloody mall, not the Ritz for dinner. Put a bit of leg into it and get your lovely arse out here, pet. Mall won’t wait forever.”
Just the throwaway reference to that part of her body—which had had its fair share of Spike attention—made her flush right down to her gaping cleavage. Buffy frowned. Not really the best kind of top to wear when out shopping for baby things. Oh well. Thanks Willow!
The redhead had her arms full of baby when Buffy rushed from the bathroom, steam and faint fruity smells drifting out behind her. Spike hovered at Willow’s elbow, attempting to act all cool and evil, but Buffy felt stunned by the look of protective concern for the little girl that clouded the clear blue. His eyes were trained on Willow like a hawk, ready to spring to action should he not approve of any of the witch’s moves. Buffy didn’t know whether to smile affectionately or gulp in horror.
Who the heck was this evil murdering vampire that was gushing over a tiny baby girl in Giles’s living room? This situation, this vampire—and okay, mucho with the hot steamy sex—had her way beyond wigged. Shaking her head and leaving the oddness to sort out much later when she wasn’t still hazy from the sexfest that kept her body singing said vamps praises, Buffy turned to collect the collection of bills and credit cards that Giles had left for this trip. The clear empty table didn’t compute with her for a moment, her inner eye replaying an hour ago as she sunk onto big powerful and hard Spike.
Spike pinned her with a knowing glance when her heartbeat accelerated, smirking and eyeing her top lewdly. If Buffy didn’t feel the tight hold of the fabric keeping her in her top, she might have been convinced that Spike saw a lot more than was possible. One reassuring look found hard pebbly outlines where her nipples were and she couldn’t prevent the groan of embarrassment as she quickly covered her breasts with crossed arms.
“So, looks like Spike has money,” Buffy proclaimed with a steely look at the not even slightly guilty looking Spike. “Let’s go then.” Buffy grabbed the coat that Willow had brought to match her hastily chosen clothing and cringed at the pale green. She was so stopping at her dorm before they brought the baby home again from their shopping trip.
Home. The thought made her flush return as she thought of the things that home entailed for her right now. Home was a bed in Giles’s apartment. An apartment that only had one bedroom, one bed and knowing evil nasty Spike, he wouldn’t be giving it up so Buffy could get a decent sleep. Which added to the images of sharing that she was trying desperately to keep out of her head. She swallowed, hard, as naked Spike images persisted, limbs entwined with her own as they moved together.
Damn, this top felt tight. Right in front of her, right in front of softly cooing Willow, Buffy’s eyes fell to Spike’s crotch and she felt both horrifyingly fascinated and fevered that he seemed to be growing.
Buffy flapped her lips, desperate for some kind of noise to get her back to thinking with something other than hormones. Spike beat her to the punch.
“Can’t do that yet, luv.”
The sexy promise of his voice completely robbed her of her usual cool and she started to fidget nervously, her mind flashing rapidly over her morning activities that she suddenly wished hadn't been interrupted by Willow’s arrival.
“Wh-why not?” she stammered, wondering if she was going dumb. Could sex with Spike make her lose braincells? ‘Cause she so wasn’t thinking. Not if she was getting hot again just because he used all those stupid pet names. Pet names that were driving her wild.
“Haven’t got the baby bag together. Need to take some nappies and things. Bottle incase she gets hungry. Not sure yet what her feed times are.”
Buffy watched him and completely flew to the next wiggy level of wigged.
“Huh? And again I say wha? And who are you again? And what the freak is a napp-whatsa-hoovy? Feed times? Like in the zoo? And when did going to the Mall get so hard?” Buffy felt herself approaching a tearful breakdown. For the first time since Giles dived out the door, leaving his pile of lovely guiltfree-in-the-spendage money and a sexy vampire she suddenly couldn’t keep her hands off, Buffy felt close to hyperventilating. She’d suffered, dammit. That baby had puked smelly milk all over her clothes, leaving her to resort to Willow’s wild and whackily uncoordinated dress sense. This burden was proving completely out of her league.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she pushed through wobbly lips, and then the sobs began and in front of a stunned Spike and Willow she ran for the bathroom.
Spike eyed Willow to ensure she was still holding the baby correctly and instructed her to stay put and guard the littlun with her life if she knew what was good for her, and he headed into the uncertain Slayerhaven to find out what the hell was wrong now.
He found her sitting on the toilet lid, her face in her hands as she cried quietly and her body shook.
“What’s wrong?” His voice wasn’t exactly cold, but neither was it infused with much sympathy or interest. He felt exasperated, not sure why she had collapsed in this weird emotional slump when they had things to get done.
“As if I’m gonna tell you,” she mumbled miserably, her head rising to hit him with the impact of a Slayer all red and snuffly, face saturated with tears. There was no sign of her usual Slayer fire and insult.
He groaned and crouched down in front of her, tugging her hands down and holding them firmly as he looked into her shimmering green eyes.
“Please tell me, pet. Can’t put things right unless you do.”
She looked at him like he had horns sprouting out the top of his head.
“That,” she said and he scrunched up his face in confusion. “Right there. Who the hell are you? Because I did not just have sex…twice…with my number one mortal enemy. He with all the baby info and knowledge. And having a baby is so much responsibility. I’m only nineteen. I’m too young to play mommie.”
Spike grinned and hauled her off the loo, thrusting gently against her as she settled into a rather good feeling straddle.
“Stopped being mortal enemies when I came to you for help, I reckon. And moreover, I think we should wait to discuss what happened earlier when little Scooby ears aren’t so much present. You pick up stuff about things when you’ve lived as long as me, and contrary to what you might think, I didn’t kill every woman I came into contact with.” That revelation seemed to embarrass him and Buffy looked intrigued as he dropped his head, avoiding her eyes. But then she felt her body heat as he seemed hooked on her breasts, the revealed slope of them so very close to his mouth.
Buffy jumped when he laid his lips against her warm skin, sweeping them gently over the swell before moving up to place gentle caressing ones on her neck. He reached her chin and then nipped at her lips.
“An’ yeah, it’s a big responsibility, ‘specially for a girl like you.”
Her eyes bugged at the automatically assumed insult, and he chuckled at her. She was so predictable it was hardly fun.
“I meant that you’ve already got the world on your shoulders. Don’ need to be mum on top of that. ‘Cept the Powers have seen fit to bring you this. An’ me. I’m here too.”
His voice had lowered to almost a sensual rumble and Buffy forgot her panic and wondered how it would have been if this was real and Lia did belong to her and Spike. Sadness consumed her when she had to be strong with herself, reminding herself that the current situation was because Ophelia was Giles’s. A niece, or sister maybe to Buffy, but not her daughter. It felt wrong.
Buffy couldn’t help but feel like his lips on hers were right, that he was comforting her about something that was theirs, that he was sharing something personal. It felt too good to kiss him, feel his tongue roll against hers and push at her teeth, nibble her lips and hold her close. Her tears wouldn’t stop flowing as she dealt with this need. She held him tightly against her body, crushing herself against him as she took some more of his yummy taste, the kiss becoming more passionate.
They were stopped by a cry from the living room, Willow’s attempts to placate becoming more distraught.
“Time to go be heroes, goldilocks.”
Buffy blushed at the new name, feeling more than confused and yet happy that he was branching out on her.
One more quick kiss and she released him, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
This sitch was way with the weird, yet Buffy followed him, smiling past the blur in her eyes. She could handle responsibility. She ate responsibility for breakfast. She owned responsibility.
And Lia was hers!
Chapter Ten
Spike stood in the middle of the store and let his eyes spin around the floor and wondered what the hell he’d done to be tortured in such a manner. Within thirty seconds of stopping, they had been bombarded by the gushing enthusiasm of a salesperson. The woman’s eyes passed quickly over Buffy and lingered on Spike before finally falling on the baby.
“Oh, isn’t she the most precious thing,” she cooed as she let Lia play with one of her chubby fingers. Spike counted to three before he grinned at the woman’s change in expression. “She…er…doesn’t look a thing like either of you.”
“We’re bab—“ Spike began before his explanation was completely run over by Buffy.
“She’s adopted. We’ve been waiting ages for her but now we have her she’s just the love of our lives.”
Spike just watched in horror as Buffy seemed to be all dazed about the romanticism of their apparently much longed for adoption.
“Oh, how darling. Congratulations. You are such a handsome couple, too. So what do you need?”
Buffy looked at the woman with a weak, sort of helpless expression on her face, almost panting in sincere looking relief that an expert had arrived to save the day.
“Oi, let’s keep it simple, huh. We’ll need a cot, a pram, a bottle steriliser for the microwave, and a supply of bottles.”
“Oh,” the saleswoman breathed, turning to Buffy in one awed moment. “You lucky, lucky girl. That is the sexiest voice I have ever heard.”
Buffy giggled her agreement and looped her arm through Spike’s spare one, the other dangling with the baby carrier clasped tight in his fist.
“And now you have a little bundle of joy to coddle. I’ll bet she’ll be Daddy’s girl in no time.”
Spike flinched at the wording that conjured up images of how much a Daddy’s girl Dru had been, then shook his head clear and tried to catch up to how this expedition had turned on him.
“I’m so sorry, sir, but I’m not so sure about your terms. A cot…?”
Both women looked at him in expectation and he was silenced in confusion. “You have different names for baby furniture? Well I’ll be buggered. That’s just takin’ the whole independence from the motherland a bit too far, innit?” He shook his head. “Right, cot. Thing so long, slats on the side to keep the tyke inside, adjustable base for the different ages…”
Understanding drifted across the woman’s face and she broke into an impressed smile.
“You certainly know your product, sir. Right this way and I’ll show you what we have.”
Buffy and Spike followed along obediently, Buffy looking at all the little knick-knacks and gadgets with an enthusiasm that was making Spike’s wallet hurt.
Before they even reached the section where all the selections were lined neatly beside one another, Buffy had torn herself from Spike’s side and was walking fast to a polished oak with a pretty pink frilly bedding set.
“This one, honey. It’s perfect for Lia,” Buffy oozed, making Spike’s groin tighten painfully and his brow furrow in shock. He’d never seen the little actress in the Slayer before, but it was fairly dripping from her lips now. No way could she be falling into a pipe-dream, no matter how much the thought of sharing this child was doing to Spike’s ego and libido.
“That’s a lovely one, dear. Sir, we call these cribs over here. Same functions, though,” she winked as she mentally began to tally the cost. “This one is called the Erika; beautiful handcrafted Italian design. Isn’t it just the most gorgeous thing?”
Buffy nodded, completely enamoured with the cathedral style crib.
“Are you sure you don’t want to have a look at the others…?” She stopped as Buffy shook her head emphatically, her mind very made up.
Spike rolled his eyes as he looked at the price tag. “You sure about that, luv?”
“Oh honey, of course I’m sure. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have the money,” she said as she petted his butt cheek. “And these sheets with little angel’s all over them are just perfect.” She shot him a cheeky smirk just as she curled her arm back around him.
“It truly is an excellent choice, and we have some in stock if you need it straight away.”
“Absolutely,” Buffy breathed in obvious relief and approval, almost falling to grasp the woman’s hand in gratitude. “Now the other things my husband mentioned?”
“Oh yes, a…pram?”
Spike was about to squeeze something hard when he saw the perfect thing. He stomped his way over to the assortment and eyed the navy pram, the high carriage and big wheels offering perfect cushioning comfort for this new little charge. The tray underneath was bloody brilliant to hold weapons if they happened to get caught with her out and about.
“This is the one,” he told them confidently, completely ignoring Buffy’s fish-like gawp as she eyed the price tag.
“But sweetie, that’s awfully expensive,” Buffy giggled nervously while shooting Spike an icy glare, as if he didn’t already know she wasn’t amused.
“Ah, but as you rightly pointed out sweetling, we can afford it. An’ if not, ‘m sure the council will help out with a bit of overtime. Our princess deserves the best of everything.” He winked at Buffy before pulling her back to his side and draping a leather-clad arm over her shoulders.
“Can I just ask,” butted in the saleslady with a sweetly concerned voice. “Has the little darling been stuck in the carrier for long?”
Buffy nodded hesitantly, suddenly worried that she was about to get into trouble for something. “We haven’t really had anywhere else to put her. Is that a bad thing.”
“Oh, don’t worry dear. It isn’t the best thing for baby to lie in a carrycot for extended periods, but maybe you could try a baby sling? Your husband could give your baby a bit of something different and carry her around in one of those while you go about the rest of your shopping?”
Spike’s eyes widened in alarm, ready to bite the woman into shutting her lips before Buffy got any embarrassing ideas. He knew it was too late as he watched her light off and run after the woman.
“Ooh, ooh, Spike. This is perfect.” She waved him over, her body fairly vibrating with excitement. “Can we use this now? My husband would love to be able to carry Lia around in this. Give his arm a bit of a rest. He’s a bit of a weakling, you know.” She gave the saleslady a conspiratorial wink.
“Oi, cut it out, Slayer,” Spike practically snarled, the dent to his pride almost enough for him to test the workability of his chip. “I’m not wearing that around the shops. You’re off your bleeding rocker if you think that I am.”
The disappointment in Buffy’s falling face and the disapproval in the saleswoman’s was enough for Spike’s insides to wither. He clenched his jaw, struggling against his temper.
“Bloody hell,” he exploded, his fist balled tight. His eyes fell on one that was on display, seeing how he could nurse the baby on his front, leaving his hands free for whatever he might need them free for. Random vamp dusting, playing cards, wielding the remote control, drinking from his bottle of scotch. The thing was a bloody miracle of invention.
“Right,” he said, shocking them with his complete about face and his energetic pace to the display. “Do you have this one in black?”
Buffy smirked at his back, hiding her mouth behind her hand as she imagined him wearing the sling over the top of his duster. Three quarters of an hour later and they were loaded down with purchases, standing at the checkout and signing away on Giles’s credit card, Spike loaded up with a lovely shiny baby sling and a sleeping Lia being rocked to comfort on his front.
Buffy eyed the stack and turned to the helpful assistant with a touch of worry on her face.
“Is it at all possible to leave this stuff here while we go and buy some baby clothes?”
The woman smiled, completely on the right wavelength with the pretty young blond. She was completely sold by the hunky sight of dad nursing his baby girl in the fashionable sling. It matched his leather coat beautifully and brought his precious bundle so much closer that he could look lovingly at her face. The little family was truly a picture in her eyes.
“Oh, of course dear. You go and pick up whatever else you need. I’ll keep this for you for when you get back.” The woman beamed at the young family.
“Thank you so much,” Buffy said, her hands clasping the older woman’s matronly body in a spontaneous hug.
Spike was beginning to worry about how into this scenario the Slayer was getting. It was becoming a bit disturbing. Except for the affectionate way she seemed to claim his arm. That was kinda sexy in a really innocent way. Yeah, that made him feel pretty good.
They left the carrier and Spike walked off, his big boots clomping on the floor, his duster swishing impressively around his legs and a baby attached to his front in a slick black baby sling. He ignored Buffy’s quiet giggles as he led them out of the shop.
They walked quietly for a while before they passed a store that looked like it sold clothes for children and Buffy took no time in hauling him inside. An hour later, Lia was starting to fret, and Buffy was loaded down with clothes.
“Oi, pick her out a red top and a pair of leather pants.”
Buffy looked at him horrified. “What the hell?”
“You can’t dress the mite up in all that pastel pink. She needs somethin’ a bit classy.”
“She’s a baby, Spike. Besides, I’m pretty sure they don’t make leather pants for baby girls.”
Spike pouted, then turned on his heel and went to lean against the counter. “Bloody hurry up then, luv. Clock’s tickin’ and the bit’s gettin’ hungry.”
Buffy looked moody as they wound the trip up, a last minute dash to buy some formula and they were beginning to collect all the big stuff. Some big guys from the mall helped them lift it all to the car.
Packed to the rafters, Spike thanked his lucky stars for his Oldsmobile that had a boatload of space and settled the baby in and drove carefully off.
“Buckle yourself in, Slayer. It’s Home Sweet Home for us now.” He leered at her top, letting his eyes slide all the way over.
“Time all good Slayers and Vampires retired for the night.”
And he left her body to burn.
Chapter Eleven
“Oh no. I’m not doing that again!” Buffy took three large steps backward and gave Spike and the bottle of mixed-up formula her semi-evil eye. She eyed her fresh and still orange shirt and whimpered, not eager for a fourth shower for the day. “You do it. She loves you.”
Spike arched a brow, secretly chuffed that the Slayer of all people could admit to him that the Big Bad was the object of a tiny girl’s affections. Bloody hell he was going soft. But he grinned anyway.
“Right then. I’ll be the manly man of the house and give the baby her bottle, and you can be the woman and go and construct the cot.”
Buffy shot him a dirty look. ‘Evil’ she mouthed at him slowly, Spike becoming quickly mesmerised by the movement of her glistening lips. But before he could put Lia down and pounce on that lip that pouted out beyond reasonable measures, she’d spun on her heel, eyeing the boxes and the room around her.
“Um, where should I set it up do you think?”
Spike eyed her, mystified at where their mortal enemy number one bickering status had gone, wondered why he didn’t feel the urge to grab her and crack her neck for bringing him to such a humiliating level. The squirming baby caused him to finally tear his eyes from the blond who had been the bane of his existence for the past two years of his very long unlife. He felt like he had been trying to kill the bint since he first lost his living breath. That’s how much she frustrated him. It only took the whine of her voice, though, to replace the harsh images of death and glorious bloodshed and remind him that he’d had her blood, and no chip firing seemed to indicate that he wanted something from her other than to eat away the rest of her life.
And she wanted to know where to construct the cot…crib…bloody cot for Satan’s sake.
“Er, knowing mites like I do,” he started when interrupted by her disbelieving cough and he shot her a menacing glare, “would be best to have her close to where we’re sleepin’.”
Her coughing turned into ugly choking sounds and he turned away, grinning into the curve of his arm as he directed the bottle’s nipple to the starving baby’s eager lips.
“We?” she squeaked, almost like she had no clue how he could have ever put her and himself in a room together.
“Rupert’s room makes the most sense. Nice big comfy bed, lotsa room and no baby stuff clutterin’ up the space down here. Gimme a mo an’ I’ll help you with the boxes.”
“NO,” she shouted at him nervously, already pulling the box toward the stairs and up to Giles’s loft bedroom. “I-I’ve got it, I think.” She shrugged her hair forward to cover the flame in her cheeks and heaved the heavy box up the stairs.
The vamp of experience took little time to burp the baby properly, letting her rest over his shoulder on the top of a rug that had been with a couple included in the nappy bag. He screwed his face up in irritation. He supposed they’d call it a diaper bag or something else as equally confusing and odd. Oh well, it protected his duster and that was the main thing. Baby sick was an absolute bitch to leather. A quick change of her pants and she was all quiet and comfy, batting her sleepy lashes at him as he took himself a good look.
She was a light brown, not really like that chit that claimed Giles was the doting dad. But the curly black hair was enchanting, the sparkling ocean blue eyes hypnotic as she made baby noises and sucked Spike in even farther.
“You’re a right little peach, aren’t you, bit?” He couldn’t keep back the smile, couldn’t prevent the small little beat on the edge of his heart that sang praises for this little pile of girl that made him want to be her dad. ‘Cept it was Giles, and that brought a frown to his face.
There was nothing of the tweedy wanker in Lia. In fact… He sniffed at her face, burying his nose in her small fleshy neck and dragged in her scent through his nostrils, smelling nothing of the watcher in the babe; feeling nothing that inspired him to want to spill her blood. What he did smell made his head spin.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, smiling widely as he rocked her gently, humming softly as her eyes drifted that last length to fully closed and she was back asleep. He placed her once again in the carrier, grinning like a fool. He wasn’t bothered so much as bewildered, but he was losing his heart as slowly and surely as he had closed it down in this last year since Dru dumped him.
He took the stairs two at a time till he was standing right in front of a red and flustered Buffy, grinning and excited and hopeful. He grabbed her crouching form, tossed her into the air and caught her again, spinning in a euphoric circle before collapsing in a tangle of legs and arms on the bed.
“Garaqua demon, luv.” His fierce happiness had his arms around her like steel bands, holding her hard against his body as he rolled them back and forth. He’d never felt so happy in all his unlife and bloody hell was he glad he’d guilted the bleeding git to hightail it after the dishonest bint.
“And I say loudly, huh?” Buffy squirmed against him, not entirely disliking the effects it had on his body as she found herself shifting to accommodate her different slopes and bumps to fit better against him.
She shuddered when he fell between her legs, his elated face buried against her exposed skin even as his hands were pushing up the hem.
God, it all felt so good. He wanted to taste her so bad, share his mood and celebrate the power of the vamp nose for solving mysteries. It wasn’t until he’d removed her top and had his tongue teasing her nipple while his fingers twisted the other that he saw the pitfalls of telling the secret too soon.
Maybe not the best to tell her she was babysitting for someone other than her Watcher. She’d run, leave the little one to his evil decisions, and the thought of that happening now hurt. Made his balls ache almost as much as that little awakened section of his heart.
He pulled back from her, releasing the nipple with a slurping plop and raised his eyes to meet the Slayer’s. No way was he giving this up yet. No way did he want her to start looking at him like he was nothing but an evil soulless monster all over again. Something had changed today, something that brought them to spread out on the surface of Rupert’s bed. Something that put that little spark of uncertainty, shyness and fear in her gaze but also showed the heat of her curiosity.
It seemed more than reasonable that if he was changing, then so might she be. And so, holding her eyes and melting in the fire of the jade, he claimed her lips in a gentle kiss. Only a slight hesitation and she curled her hand into the back of his head, her fingers sorting curls by kink and length. He sighed into her mouth and felt that section of his heart begin to expand, sucking in more feeling as it applied to the responsive woman in his arms.
The kiss was long and wet, gentle caressing tongues as they explored the newness of what they felt with each other. He consumed her taste, felt lightheaded with her heat and wanted nothing better than to slide along with her naked while the night was quiet.
But it had all changed in the blink of an eye; whatever carnal delight he’d stolen from her earlier in the day, he wasn’t going to receive this time. She had him caught—through her maddeningly delicious fingers loving his hair, her sweet sublime mouth that loved his lips with a passion that had him hard and waiting, with her body, pressed gently and engagingly against all the bits that hurt.
Yeah, changed, but so much better. So much juicier as he felt hypnotised by the roar of her blood, wanting nothing but to taste her passion on his tongue as she spilled past his fangs. To feel the alteration within her, too, as she gave a little of her heart back to him.
He was turning back into that poofy-haired poem-loving ponce and for once it didn’t seem to hurt half as bad as it always had around Dru. She’d seen him walk in other worlds alright, but that didn't mean she accepted them. Poetry with Buffy seemed right, beautiful words building a picture of them as a family.
“Buffy,” he whispered into her collarbone, his tongue licking the sensitive flesh as she shuddered in his arms. His vision had hazed, passion taking him to the brink of love’s bitch once again. Love for the little girl downstairs, and maybe not love for the Slayer he loved to hate, but definitely something. Something potent and strong.
When he felt a shy hand slowly creep up underneath the front of his tee, he held in his breath, wanting to whimper like a little girl. He wanted this more than he’d ever thought possible. Their encounters this morning were based on his carnal lust without doubt, but this had more than a dash of sensitivity that altered his approach.
“Spike? Th-this is wr—“
He pounced on her lips in a fury, not caring if what he was doing was wrong, never caring if he was doing the thing that was moral or just. He was evil for fuck’s sake. Why did tasting her skin make him want to change who he was? He’d forgotten the chip, forgotten that whether there was this right now he was still fundamentally altered from who he had always been. For now there was the girl. The one that lay writing against him even as she said this feeling was wrong, that the rightness of what they were doing to each other shouldn’t bloody well be.
Well, as far as Spike was concerned, she could take her self-righteous claptrap and shove it where the bleeding Powers could never find it.
He ate away her protests as his tongue licked down her body, finding the waistband of her pants and loosening it until it slid down her legs. She offered no more argument, her body completely surrendering to his mastery and he felt the relief reverberate right throughout his body.
His nose nudging against her cleft before his tongue dived in to part her was the last of her denial; a strangled moan caught in her throat as she let her legs part a little wider for him. His tongue swept up the inner lips, gliding over the smooth flesh even as the roughness of her pussy hair scratched the edges of his lips. He pushed the fleshy appendage into her depths, twisting it inside her as he struggled to take all she had, struggled to imprint himself on the most sensitive flesh deep within her.
His teeth grazed her clit first, followed by a worshipful tongue as she bucked against him in the most ladylike display of passion he had ever seen. It brought a smirk to his lips that did nothing but tease them both, and he used all his oral talents to show her how irreplaceable he was to her now.
He wanted her and Spike would use everything he had to keep her.
Even if that meant misleading her about the origins of Lia.
Her thighs squeezed around his ears hard and he could feel the slow build of a pulse that was the precursor to her losing control completely. Her pussy jutted out sharply into his mouth, her clit rubbing against the ridges of his teeth. She screamed, her voice echoing in his ears as well as the walls as he drank her down, supped at her till he felt lazy and relaxed.
Like he had eaten a perfect dinner.
He abandoned the sensitive flesh to press kisses of gratitude against her inner thigh, his fingers stroking the hair that covered the best kept secret in all the world as far as he was concerned.
They were both satisfied and fell asleep—Buffy naked and legs spread, an evil but chipped vampire cushioned against the pillowy softness of her thigh. Feeling too good to move. Feeling the drag to slumber too strong. Feeling the awareness too confusing.
Sleep offered the most comfort and for now, guiltless escape.
Chapter Twelve
She heard a soft gurgling noise in the distance and felt the heaviness on her thigh. The noise so far didn’t appear urgent, but looking down she found herself completely naked with a clothed vampire using her inner thigh as his pillow. His left palm rested just above the thatch of pubic hair and Buffy stopped breathing. Shock held her still as she felt the cool breath blow across her pussy lips, frantically trying to stifle a groan.
It was late and the noise from downstairs was getting louder and more demanding. Buffy felt her skin prickle as she tried to think of what to do, finally resting on the knowledge that she didn’t have a clue. But Spike would. That conclusion brought an impressed sigh to her lips. He just kept on surprising her.
She shook her leg gently, hoping to wake him up but instead accidentally nudged him further up her thigh. She froze, feeling his cold exhalation part the hairs around her pussy-lips. Her next try, she sat up. Instead of being able to stir him, he just curled his arm around her hip and snuggled in deeper.
“Oh God,” Buffy whimpered, not knowing how or what to think at this stage of the night when she had already shared four mind-blowing encounters with Spike. Spent time with a vampire she was finding it rather difficult to recognise. But right now, there was a baby who seemed to be not so of the happy to be left alone downstairs.
“Spike?” Buffy leaned down and stroked his hair away from his face, revealing the very masculine turn of his chin and nose even as the concave slant of his cheekbones made him beautiful. His lips were divine and Buffy felt herself easily becoming lost in the hope that she hadn’t felt the last of those lips. And wasn’t she brave for sitting up and staring at him while she was nude? She felt the telltale flush creep up her neck and quickly looked around for something to cover herself with.
All she could grab as he started to move was Giles’s pillow. Jamming it over her breasts as Spike propped open one crystalline blue eye, she nearly hyperventilated at the look of pure predator that was set on his face. He turned back into her thigh and lightly bit her with blunt teeth, making heat shoot through her body at high speed. His tongue stroked wet leisurely circles over her skin and Buffy felt a whimper rise in her throat.
“Lia,” she got out desperately, before she fell back under the influence of his tongue and teeth. He teased and touched until she was shaking silently in frustrated desire. Balled fists ensured she didn’t grab his head and jam his face in the spot she most wanted to feel him, but when she heard the cry downstairs getting louder and more urgent, her hands did find the place but instead pulled him away from her. It took a mammoth strength of will to let him go.
He didn’t argue with her, pulling his body in a fluid move to standing, bending back to her in the last to bestow a firm, promising kiss.
“You’re gonna have to learn this stuff, too, Pet. I’ll fix ‘er and bring her up.” His eyes fell on the half-put together cot and grinned. Guess the little one will have to bunk down with us tonight.
Buffy’s eyes widened in panic. “Isn’t that, like, seriously dangerous or something?”
“We’ll be alert. Everything’ll be fine. You tuck yourself in an’ I’ll go feed the cherub.” He kissed her lingeringly again before leaving, Buffy looking a little disappointed at his clothed form.
Tiredness suddenly seized her and she struggled with the bed sheets till she had crawled underneath, the fabric cool against her skin, her flushed cheeks sighing into the pillow. She closed her eyes and fell into sleep.
~ * ~ * ~
He couldn’t help but think this nursing thing was kind of neat. He liked the moments he sat alone, the warm bundle of squirming girl in his arms, watching him through alert eyes as she sucked sustenance into her mouth. Dru had always loved babies; the blood was newer and fresher and redder. Sometimes the fear from an adult made her tummy rumble unhappily, made her hide within herself till the pain finally seeped from her into someone else. But babies were so innocent, so sweet and lovely, and Dru loved to tear them apart.
The thought of what Dru could do to Lia made Spike feel truly afraid for the first time since he’d been turned. This baby was his—his and Buffy’s, even if the Slayer had yet to work that out. The watcher had no claim, had been lied to for what reason Spike had no clue. But whatever the truth was, this gorgeous little love had been abandoned into his and Buffy’s care and that was where Spike would make sure she stayed.
Spike held his breath as he changed her nappy, resting her in her carrier while he took out some rugs and took them with the old-fashioned looking pram up the stairs. He set it up on Buffy’s side then disappeared to reclaim the baby, bringing her up to rest in a space other than the one she’d been in for the past twenty-four hours.
He wrapped her tight and tucked her in, losing himself affectionately in the plumpness of her face even while he said a silent prayer to anything that would listen that the little one would stay asleep for the rest of the night. Checking that Buffy was asleep, he bent and pressed a gentle kiss to the baby’s head and then got ready for bed.
He stood at the side of the bed and looked at her. Eyed her bare shoulders above the coverings and felt himself react in the way he had all day. He’d always thought the chit was pretty, in an overly strong and opinionated way. Now he saw her beauty, could feel the tantalising power that seemed to hum and pulse around her figure. He could smell her flesh under the sheet, could feel the weight of her breasts in his hands and suddenly craved nothing in his life but to hold her. The hunt wasn’t what he needed right now, but the catch seemed gloriously rewarding.
The best tactic was of course to prepare for bed in his usual way. He shucked his jeans to the floor, followed by his clinging black tee and smoothly slid in beside her. Her heat seemed to beg him to come closer, to wrap his cool body around her and sooth the fire, calm its escape till it transferred the power to him.
It was indescribable. The feel of her silken back against his chest, his hardened cock slotting into the curve of her bum and his hands resting on the more muscular shape of her belly. He couldn’t resist the temptation of trailing a fingertip into her bellybutton, his face seeking the tickle of her hair. Then the irresistible call of her rounded breasts took over his impulse and he was cupping one in his hand, his breath fanning strands of hair as he felt like he wanted to pant. It was so much, this feeling that was welling up inside him merely from a stroke of her skin.
Her erect nipple poked into his palm and he felt his body shudder. The anticipation made him tingle, a sensation that had been absent from his repertoire of feeling since he’d turned to the dark. It was welcome, and strangely something he felt an urgency to surrender himself to. Something he wanted to lay back and experience, willing to allow the Slayer to creep into his heart despite the danger that may leave him open to.
She moved back into him, her upper body craning forward a little so that his loose handful became very secure around her breast. Spike bent his head and breathed in the scent of fresh Slayer at her neck. His lips found the small raised pinpricks of his mark and latched hold, sucking softly. When he’d done this to Dru it meant a connection to his Sire, though so much weaker than this. So much more one-dimensional than this—this heat and need and belonging that scorched him from the point of her neck.
It made blood rush to his cock, achingly hard as he pushed against her, sliding down and up until he slid between her legs. In sleep her hand reached back to smooth over his hip, her legs parting so that he could reach her and touch her. The chit was driving him bloody wild.
She moaned and started moving against him, waking slightly and rolling over. Her eyes were sleepy as she looked into his tense face, and frowned as she raised a finger to smooth the line between his brows. She hooked her leg over his hip and moved down on him, letting herself slip over the swollen head that pushed against her ready lips.
“Spike,” she breathed, her body awake but her mind obviously reacting on sensation alone. And then she was kissing him as her body took him inside, sliding all the way down on him as her hips controlled their movement.
Spike was still, tasting her lips and kissing her slowly, sensually as he lost himself to her gentle rhythm. It felt different, this joining. Different to the world of sex he had known for the past century as a vamp. Dru had never kissed him like this, had never given in to him like this.
His hand stroked her back, holding her tight over him as she continued to roll her hips against him, torturing him with the beauty of her pace. It was intimacy on a heartbreaking level, and as he took in the events of the night, took in the little girl sleeping in her pram, the woman who was loving his cock, the woman he was changing himself irrevocably for.
He knew the moment she woke up fully, her heart beating a little more erratically, a slowing of her hip’s movements and the lessening pressure of her lips. Startled green eyes met his apprehensive ones. Now he was feeling this he was terrified she was going to rip it away from him. Afraid she would walk out on him and the baby—acting like there was no right for them to be together. And while his demon struggled with this new path, he didn’t want her to move. Didn’t want her to go, to walk away and leave him back in the dejected and lonely path he’d been on after Dru dumped him.
He’d come looking for her.
Why hadn’t he been able to admit it? The fascination for this slayer? He’d fought more than two in his time—not that he would ever admit his defeat. He’d been lucky to run away from bad set-ups before, could admit defeat when he was too weak or she was too lucky. But Buffy—he could never walk away from her. Kept coming back to taunt her and himself with what he could never have. Her fire lit something deep inside that he’d kept hidden for too long. Brought something back that William had held safe for him for all this time.
“I thought this was a dream,” she whispered against his lips and then her hips were moving again. Her lips claiming him again, her hands holding him and touching him and loving him.
His hands shook as he held her, allowing his lips to surrender to her even as he struggled to keep some part of his heart to himself. Despite the lack of effort it took for her to slide centimetres along his cock, he could feel the build-up even more powerfully than some of his hottest times. He was touched, in too many places to hold it back, and even as he felt her muscles grip him hard, even as she pumped him a little faster, he felt the spill.
“It is a dream,” he breathed into her panting mouth. “The very best kind.”
She watched him with wide eyes, watery in their question to him.
“It’s the kind of dream that comes true.” And he kissed her again, sweeping his tongue along her lower lip and felt himself warm even more as she moaned.
Pulling away, she smiled dreamily at him and leaned back in to kiss his chin. “Funny how something that was once your worst nightmare can suddenly seem much less frightening.”
“Oi!” he exclaimed, affronted by her implication that he was less of the big bad. Then his eyes fell on the still sleeping baby, and swept back to Buffy. “Yeah,” he grinned before snuggling into her and attempting to hold her back to sleep.
Suddenly a world without Dru and violence and mayhem seemed a bit of alright. Now he just had to make sure he kept it that way.
To be continued
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