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| In Omne Tempus - These Loving Arms by Holly (3 Reviews) | | - abc + + |  | | | Chapter Twenty-Six
These Loving Arms
She felt she slept forever. It had been so long since she’d seen the sun that even the hint of morning light fighting her blinds made her wince. The room was otherwise dark—the door closed needlessly, as they were alone in the house. However, for whatever reason, the notion solidified their privacy. The real world did not exist beyond these walls. The world that waited for their return. The world of death and destruction and blood and crucifixions against church doors.
A thousand years or more had passed since then. She felt so far removed that it was hard to envision the girl that had wept so hard the night before. There was something strong rooted in her blood now; something that didn’t question as much as it answered, didn’t frown as much as it understood. If it was possible for her to age as much as she had the night before, anything else was possible as well.
The place that had hurt, though, was gone now. Not drowned to apathy, not discarded; rather her eyes opened that morning and she saw everything as she never had before. As though besieged by sudden wisdom and the answers of the universe locked resolutely in place. It had happened last night, too. As Spike thrust into her body, his fangs in her throat, and the agony her psyche had suffered through over the past few days fell to silence, she felt the most startling peace wash over her. She thought it was him; thought it was the simple solace of being his.
No, it was something else. Something more. Her soul was no longer breaking, her world was set right. And while the thought of her dead friend inspired her being with sadness, there was acceptance there as well. Not in the manner of her death, but in death itself. Willow had been released. She was somewhere now where no harm would come to her ever again; Buffy was sure of that. Whether or not it was the conventional Christian ideal of Heaven—something she personally rejected—or one of the thousands of heavenly dimensions Giles had told her about, she knew that the soul did not die. It didn’t with vampires, so it couldn’t with the very best of people. She wasn’t trapped in the Ether, though—she was free. She was out of harm. Wherever she was, she was out of harm.
Funny. She’d been told that a thousand times as a child. When her grandmother died, it was because she went on to a better place. When she killed her goldfish by accident, her mother had taken her in her arms and whispered that there was a heaven for fishies, too. When she staked vampires or slayed demons, she was under the impression that she was sending them back to Hell, where they belonged. If there was a hell, there had to be an equivalent place of good, else there would be no basis on which to judge Hell.
She understood now. Everything was different, and she’d been graced with wisdom. She would miss Willow, avenge her killers, but she would not mourn. No, Willow would not want that.
Buffy drew in a breath, her hand dancing drawing artless patterns into Spike’s chest. He was still asleep, his arms holding her tightly to his body, her head pillowed at his shoulder. He’d shown her another form of paradise last night. After the suffering and the pain, she found rapture when she least expected it. He’d run away from her, but he came back.
No, she thought. He didn’t run away. He just needed time.
There were things she would never understand about vampires. Never. However, she knew that the sire connection was potent, oftentimes illicit, and that in her mate’s case, he’d confused it with love. She knew that. She also knew there was a paternal connection between sires and childer that went beyond blood. The fact that Spike had pushed her away had hurt, yes, but she understood. She understood as much as she could. They’d both crossed their personal thresholds. The die had been cast. He needed to reach his understanding before he brought it home with him.
What he’d done to her afterward…even in her wildest fantasies, she’d never imagined anything like that.
The night had presented incredible loss and momentous gain in the same package. She could feel his love for her in every nerve of his body, as though they lived under the same skin. The claim was electric. When she touched him, she felt his pleasure. It was as though some broken part of her was finally righted, and she was a woman made whole. This was the way it was supposed to be. Always.
Buffy smiled and ran her hands through his hair, kissing his brow.
“Mmmphfff,” Spike moaned.
“Okay, sleepyhead,” she told him, brushing another kiss across his forehead. “Just stay there.”
A hand clamped around her wrist and he tugged her back to him before she could wiggle out of bed. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”
“The bathroom?”
Spike wedged an eye open. “Oh. Hurry back.”
She arched a cool brow. “Look who’s bossy in the mornings.”
He grinned. “Jus’ don’ particularly wanna let you outta my sight, pet.”
A shiver ran through her body at the look in his eyes. Her nerves burned with intent. “Me, neither,” she said, kissing him thoroughly. “But I don’t think you wanna follow me into the bathroom.”
His eyes twinkled challengingly. “Y’don’t know that. Human functions are a novelty to me.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Eww. You know, maybe we should’ve gone over our respective ‘sick fetishes’ before making with the forever thing.”
He held up a hand and counter off. “Kidding,” he said, “An’…you have sick fetishes?” His brows waggled. “Feel free to tell me everythin’…in graphic detail.”
Buffy laughed shortly and hopped out of bed. “Later, maybe,” she said. “Right now, nature calls.”
It was somewhat disconcerting how she could feel so radically different and the house had remained the same. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but the normalcy of her home threw her off. It was quiet. Her mother’s room was vacant. Her things were in the bathroom as they’d been yesterday—from shampoo to tampons—and the bar of soap next to the sink had settled into a cozy nest of soapy goo. Little things she never thought of were the same, and everything else was different. Willow was gone. Drusilla was dust. The Order could be dead, too, for all she knew. She was the mate of a vampire. She was no longer a virgin. Her legs were sore and her throat was still parched from the previous night’s tears. But the sun had still come up, her house was the same, and the world had not changed in the face of unmoving adversity.
Buffy didn’t return to the bedroom immediately. She stole one of her mother’s bathrobes and headed downstairs. She wanted to see the paper. See if anything of last night had made it, despite the late hour. If the town had realized what had changed.
How so much could have happened in such a short time, she didn’t know.
She thought of her grandmother again. When she’d died, Buffy distinctly remembered feeling guilty for being alive for days after the funeral. She’d felt guilty for thinking of anything not related to her grandmother, because her grandmother wasn’t there to worry about school or boys or what to wear to the mall that weekend.
With Willow, the sadness was there, but the guilt was gone. And she didn’t feel monstrous for it. She had Spike’s blood in her system now—perhaps that had cushioned the blow. Perhaps being immortalized gave her new perception on life. Perhaps the claim had given her something she hadn’t prepared for. While changed, she similarly felt purged. Felt as though she understood life and death thoroughly; even if she couldn’t explain it should someone ask.
The only thing she felt guilty about was the lack of guilt.
The paper had Willow all over it. She read the synopsis of the story with disgust and threw it to the ground before returning upstairs.
“Long bathroom break,” Spike commented as she removed the bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him.
“I wanted to see the paper,” she said.
He sobered. “Red…”
“They’ve already determined that she was raped. Some people are speculating that it might’ve happened post-mortem.”
Spike rose slightly and brushed a kiss against her arm. “Sweetheart—”
“I know. There was nothing…we didn’t know to go for her. I couldn’t have done anything.” She sighed. “Everything feels different.”
“Yeh.”
“I mean…not just Willow.”
He nodded and urged her to turn around so that he could see her eyes. “I know,” he said raggedly, his eyes trailing down her body. “You all right?” he asked softly. “You’re not sore from last night, are you? I wasn’…”
She smiled. “No. Last night…god, I never thought it could feel like that.” She shook her head and kissed him. “I’m just…I’m so sorry it took me so long. I can’t imagine not feeling like this now, and it’s only been a few hours. I…” A deep shudder ran through her body. “I wanted so much to…”
“Shhh,” he cooed, drawing her into his lap, settling against the headboard.
She enjoyed the comfort of his embrace for a few quiet minutes before heaving a deep breath. “I feel guilty,” she said.
“Don’t,” he replied quickly. “None of what happened was your fault.”
“I know. It’s not that. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty.”
He released a deep breath and kissed her brow. “Then we’ve come full circle,” he said. “When I left you last night…it wasn’ because I was upset about killin’ Dru…it was because I wasn’t, an’ that bothered me. I know she never loved me, an’ I know now that whatever I felt for her wasn’ love, but it seemed like there should be somethin’, an’ there wasn’t.”
Buffy just looked at him, astounded. “Oh.”
“I din’t think how it’d look, I really din’t. I jus’…even now, after everythin’, it takes me by surprise.” He paused. “But somethin’…somethin’ else happened last night…when I claimed you.”
She flushed. “That was amazing.”
Spike grinned. “Yeh, it really was. But I…you felt it too, din’t you? It was…god, I’d never felt anythin’ like it.”
“Like everything was okay?”
That was the extremely abbreviated version, but she had absolutely no idea how to put it into words. Which was evidently fine with her vampire, because he looked to be struggling with it, as well.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
She nodded, brushing her lips against his. “I felt it, too.”
“Mmmm…” Spike tugged her closer, capturing her mouth again, his hands sliding down her arms. “Buffy…”
Yearning swelled her insides. His kisses were addictive; the feel of him caressing her skin sent shooting sparks directly to her core. The slightest touch had her coming apart at the seams. Never in her wildest had she imagined the claim doing more than ridding her of the ache that attacked her whenever they were apart, aside giving her a sense of peace and belonging. How gullible she’d been. How incredibly naïve. The claim was so much more than a safety-net; and yes, while she would have taken offense to such a casual brandishing before, the truth had the ability to wound.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I love you so much.”
God, she hadn’t even been saying that for twenty-four hours. Funny how people measured time.
She was immortal now; did that mean she wasn’t human? Was that the cause of her calm reasoning? The grounds of this higher plane she had seemingly reached over night?
Spike shivered beneath her touch. “Love you, sweetling,” he murmured, a hand sliding between them. Nimble fingers cupped her pussy, stroking her gently as his eyes watched her with tender veneration. “So warm. You’re so bloody warm.”
“Ohhh…”
“So wet.” He licked his lips. “I din’t hurt you last night?”
A smile itched her lips. He kept asking, and she found it unbearably sweet. Even as he drove her mad with his hand. “No,” she replied breathlessly. “No…the…it was wonderful, Spike.” She gasped loudly when he sank a finger inside her, his eyes swallowing her with heat. “Oh God.”
“You’re so gorgeous.”
“Spike…”
“Never felt anythin’ like that before,” he whispered, his gaze soaking her up. Another finger slipped inside her, and she grasped his forearms with a heavy breath. “Never.”
“You’re just saying that,” she managed with a weak, albeit teasing smile. “It’d been how many years since you had sex?”
“You’re tellin’ me I don’ mean it?”
“I’m just saying…I could’ve been anyone.” She didn’t believe that, and she knew that he knew that she didn’t believe it. However, the possessive darkening of his gaze was not a pleasure she was soon to deny herself. Even as she moved in time with his thrusting fingers, her skin feeling on fire for the sensations he inspired her body to feel.
“If you were anyone,” he sneered, “I wouldn’t be here.”
“Better not.”
“An’ you oughta know that by now.” He kissed her fiercely; easing his touch from her body, despite her mewls of protest. “Shhh, baby. Let me take care of you.”
The swell of his erection caressed her backside and made her heart jump. “Spike…”
“Lift up jus’ a bit.” He helped her maneuver, his eyes darkening with passion as his head brushed against her folds. “Mmm. Feel like Heaven, you do.”
“Uhhh…” He was driving her mad. Her head dropped to his shoulder, a hand wheedling between them, grasping his cock. “I want you,” she said, positioning him at her opening.
He stopped her before she slid down. “You’re sure I din’t hurt you?”
For a split second, she thought she’d scream. Then she saw his eyes. The concern was gone, replaced with humor, his hands holding her just above him now, preventing his own entrance. “You suck.”
“Very well,” he agreed.
“Get inside me.”
“So bossy.”
“Spiiike!”
“Jus’ like seein’ you like this, pet,” he murmured, easing her over him, sighing heavily. “Like coming home.”
A long moan tore through her throat, her muscles constricting around his cock to hold him there. There was nothing more sacred, she thought, nothing more precious than the feel of him within her body. Just holding her now in solace before pleasure. Being one with him, emotionally and physically.
There was every possibility that she was just a romantic, but the claim told her otherwise.
“Kiss me,” Spike urged, and she did. His mouth worshipped hers as his hands rested on her hips, easing her off him just a bit before encouraging her to sink down again. “That’s it, kitten.”
“Ohhh…”
“You got me. Move jus’…oh yeah…”
“I don’t…” His hips surged forward, striking her hard. Buffy cried out and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh God.”
“It’s a dance, baby,” he murmured, wandering mouth finding her throat, tongue laving the proud claim mark on her skin. “You know how to dance. Move with me.”
Buffy released a long sigh and experimentally rose off his lap. She gasped at the feel of his length sliding within her, slick with the juices of her body, leaving her until just the tip of him remained. She was bereft and elated at the same time. “Oh my God.”
“Guh.”
He threw his head back and whimpered. She opened her eyes and smiled at the look of desperation that had replaced the cool collectiveness of just a few seconds before. It shook her that she had the power to do that. More so than when she went down on him—manipulating his body with hers so that they were eye-to-eye, seeing each other, was more erotic than she could have imagined.
“Buffy!”
“Now look who’s being bossy.”
He opened his eyes and scowled at her. She merely grinned unrepentantly.
Then she sank down again, and they sighed together.
“That’s it,” Spike murmured encouragingly, mouth returning to her throat. “Ride me jus’ like that. Ohh, pet. So fuckin’ good.” His teeth traced her claim mark, inciting a symphony of sensation across her skin. “Do you have any idea how good you feel, baby?”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. The steady slide of his cock from her body was driving her into a steady madness. His gaze burned her alive—he looked at her with such adoration; with feelings that should no longer take her by surprise, but did anyway. Her muscles contracted around him with every thrust, her heart singing at each little moan he rewarded her in return.
“You’re so warm,” he gasped, cupping her breasts. “So hot. You burn me with a touch.”
“Ohhh…”
“So soft.” His head dipped, his tongue wrapping around one of her nipples, his eager fingers pebbling the other. “Your skin’s like silk. You feel so good. So hot an’ tight around me. Drenchin’ me.” He nipped at her breasts, his hand gliding down her stomach and caressing her softly where they were joined. “I could drown in you.”
“Spike…”
Her thrusts were becoming more demanding. The more of him she had inside her, the more she wanted. His sharp blue eyes darkened in passion as she moved over him. It felt as though he was striking a new angle within her with every plunge. As though he was discovering hidden facets of her body that she hadn’t known could exist. Sweat lined her brow and a low burn was spreading through her. Building to that ultimate release. Drawing him as deep within her as possible.
“Look down, sweetheart,” he cooed encouragingly. “Look at us movin’ together.”
She did, and the sight of his cock, glistening with her juices, gliding in and out of her pussy sent shivers through her system. It made the act seem even more explicit, adding sight to sensation. A low, shaky breath rushed through her lips.
“You’re beautiful,” Spike whispered, thumb finding her clit and stroking her softly. Buffy gasped sharply and tore her gaze away from their union, finding his eyes again. “So beautiful.”
“Guh…”
“You’re close, pet. I can feel how close you are.” Something feral flashed across his face, then his fangs descended and her heart skipped a beat. “You’re so tight. So perfect.”
“Beautiful.”
He grinned. “Bloody gorgeous.”
She shook her head, moving frantically now. The fire burning within her was roaring to an explosion. “No,” she gasped. “I meant you.”
A look of sheer delight shone behind the vampire’s yellow gaze, though she suspected she wasn’t supposed to see it, as he immediately berated her for challenging his manliness by calling him beautiful. There was something about seeing Spike so unraveled that did it for her every time.
“Squeeze me tighter, baby,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to her throat, fangs pricking at the mark he’d given her. “That’s it. Ohhh, fuck, that’s it. That’s perfect, right there. My sizzling li’l Slayer. God, I love you.”
“Ohhh…”
“So hot.” His hand was bucking against her pussy now, fingers stroking her clit furiously, his mouth working up and down her neck. “Mmm…”
Her skin was burning. “Spike!”
“Need to taste you.”
“Do it!”
For a second, she thought he was going to deny her; tease her, make her beg for it, but he didn’t. He looked up and found her eyes and held for a minute, watching her reverently as she bounced on his cock as though he thought she would vanish. Then he dipped his head again, favored the claim mark with a long lick, then drove his fangs home.
Buffy cried out and exploded, triggering her mate’s orgasm. Spike growled into her throat, suckling her up, murmuring sweet nothings that offset his ferocity between swallows of blood. Time seemed to suspend. The world she’d buried herself in was becoming real around her, and her vampire was there to catch her when she fell. There to give her a softer place to land. However, with his arms around her, despite the harsh reality surrounding them, she felt she could face anything.
He gave her peace before anything else. Hell had broken loose, and he was there to give her peace.
Tears welled in her eyes for no reason, and she sniffed, irritated with herself for being so quick to cry.
Spike held her sweetly as she came down, encouraging her head to rest at his shoulder as he fell against the headboard, breathing harshly. “’S’all right, luv,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t all right, and they both knew it. She didn’t want to think about it, though. Didn’t want to think of the wealth out there that made the all consuming whole anything but all right. Therefore, she merely sighed and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“I love you,” she said.
He smiled. “Love you.”
Buffy closed her eyes and shifted slightly. He was still inside her—she didn’t want him anywhere else. The connection they maintained drew her breath away. The wondrous feel of being one with him wasn’t anything she was eager to forfeit.
But at the same time, she couldn’t allow herself to get lost in sensationalism. Her faults had already cost her enough. As lovely as it would be to lie in bed and forget all the bad in the world, there were some harsh truths to face. Other than hunting down the Order, presuming they survived the fire—and she was certain they had—she needed to talk with Giles. She needed to make sure Oz was all right. She needed to speak with her mother. Needed to tell her…oh God, everything.
“God, how am I even gonna begin to explain this?”
“Sweetheart?”
She looked up. “My mother doesn’t know anything about my secret life. She’s coming home soon…and I tell her, what? ‘Hi Mom, hope your trip was all right. By the way, have I ever mentioned I’m a vampire slayer? Oh, and this is Spike, my mate. He and I save the world together while we’re not having dirty sex just ten feet from your bedroom.’” She sighed. “And then Willow…I can’t even imagine…”
“We’ll tell her together, pet.”
“’Cause something tells me you’re not gonna wanna stay here.”
“Don’ think I’d be the most welcomed houseguest.” He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. “I’ll start lookin’ for a place for us, yeah?”
She smiled. “My own place. God, that sounds so weird.”
“Oi. It’ll be my place, too.”
“Yeah, but you’ve had your own place for a bajillion years. You’re ancient.”
“Such romance,” he chided, though his eyes were twinkling.
She smirked but continued. “And I need to talk to Giles,” she said. “About the Order…Willow…about the mating.” At his look, she drew in a breath and clarified, “I need to know why I feel this way.”
“What way?”
“Like…my guilt over not feeling guilty. And…what happened last night…to my best friend…how I could look at that and not have it kill me?” She shook her head. “I feel barely human.”
“Oh pet…” He brushed a kiss over her brow and sighed. “Well, you’re not human anymore.” She squirmed at that. “Ah, ah, ah,” he berated, tightening his grip on her. “Jus’ hear me out. You’re not human, but you’re not soulless. You’re just immortal, an’ humans by definition can’t be immortal. An’ it’s not that you’re apathetic…claimin’ you relieved the burden of fault. Of your need to dwell on matters of life an’ death. You’ll always miss her, yeh, but living isn’t betrayin’ her memory.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” she argued. “I’m living pretty well.”
“Buffy, I was with you when you found her. There was nothin’ inhuman about what you did last night, or what you’re doin’ now.” He held up a hand. “An’ no, I’m not jus’ sayin’ that. Last night when it was over, I…” Spike glanced down. “I felt it, too. I don’ know what I am anymore. I’m not a demon, but I’m still a vampire. Maybe you jus’ din’t feel it as richly as I did because you don’ have near as much to atone for as I do. But everythin’ I’ve done…I can’t even tell how I know this, but it’s all right. All my sins are gone.”
“Like…you’ve found Jesus?”
He snickered. “Hardly. That’s what I mean when I say I can’t explain it. It has bugger all to do with religion, pet. It’s almost…bloody hell, it’s indescribable. It’s not a soul…I remember what that felt like. It’s somethin’ I’ve never had before. It’s acceptance…an’ knowledge. An’ things that are beyond me, but I know it ‘cause I feel it.”
She sighed, relief coursing through her body. She didn’t understand it, but his words inspired comfort. Perhaps it was just her need for consolation, or the reassurance that she wasn’t alone anymore. Spike’s experience was so extensive that perhaps he felt it more richly than she did. Perhaps he knew what it was and how to deal.
Perhaps a million things.
“We’ll go see your Watcher later,” he told her. “There’s more that he needs to know.”
“What?”
“Dru mentioned Asmodeus last night.”
She had. The insane vampire had said the same thing in her dream, as well.
“What’s an asmodeus?”
“A nasty bugger, if memory serves. But I wanna go over it with Rupert before anythin’ else. Could be all for bloody nothin’.”
She didn’t think so. Angelus had already mentioned an apocalypse, and she wasn’t one to take that sort of threat lightly.
“In the meantime…” Spike kissed her lips and coaxed her off his lap, his cock sliding out of her. She grunted a complaint and he smiled wryly. “You need to eat breakfast.”
Buffy pouted. “I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat, pet.”
“Speak for yourself.”
He glowered at her for a minute, then his eyes sparked mischievously and he ran his gaze down her body, licking his lips in appreciation. “Mmm…all right.”
The next thing she knew, her vampire had tackled her back to the mattress and was nuzzling her breasts, his hands exploring her skin as his mouth suckled at her nipples.
“Spike!”
“I’ll eat my brekky now,” he said, winking before sliding southward, dropping kisses along her stomach as he went. “Then we’ll go downstairs an’ make yours.”
“Ohhh…oh!” Buffy fisted the bed-linens and thrashed. “I…you still like doing that?” she demanded. “Even thought we’ve…now that we’ve…”
Spike arched a brow, tongue curling around her clit. “’Course I still like doing it, you silly chit. I’ll never tire of your taste.”
“I just thought…maybe you didn’t…”
“I’m a vampire, baby. I live on indulgencies. I savor life through taste, an’ you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had, or will ever have. The flavor of you drives me wild. Now you taste like me, too. You taste like us. You’re perfect. If anythin’…” He plunged his tongue inside her for a few quick, ardent laps before drawing back. Her body positively hummed. “Tasting you is my way of bein’ selfish.”
“Uhhh…wha?”
“We’ve already established that I love your taste…but that’s only the tip of the sodding iceberg. I love watchin’ you moan an’ writhe. I love making you come.” He nibbled on her folds. “I do it because I love doin’ it, not because I was jus’ waitin’ to take you conventionally.”
“Because you’re selfish.”
He grinned, sinking his tongue inside her. “’S right.”
“I…I think I can deal with you being selfish.”
“Yeh? You’re not mad?”
“Nooo…you’re a guy…a-and guys are allowed to be selfish…once in awhile.”
“Ahhh, pet, you’re too good to me.”
“I try.” She fisted his hair and anchored his mouth back to her pussy. “Go back to being selfish.”
He chuckled, and the vibrations felt so damnably good that she didn’t care that he was laughing at her. Hell, she was hot just thinking of what else he might do out of selfishness. Spike defied convention. She would never know how she ever became so lucky to have a man in her life like him—one that she loved with all she was, one that understood her, one that would never, ever leave.
“Perfect woman,” he said, pinching her clit. “Accepts me for all my flaws.”
“Ohhh…”
“An’ selfishness.”
“Yes, yes!”
“Love you, Buffy.”
She was positively elated. “Love you.”
Of everything around her that was changing, she had the consistency she needed to keep from falling.
As long as he was with her, she felt the world could throw anything her way. She’d hurt, she’d bleed, she’d cry, but she’d survive.
He’d given her forever, and she would fight to keep it.
To be continued in Chapter Twenty-Seven: Double, Double Toil And Trouble…
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