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| In Omne Tempus - A Glass Of Wine by Holly (7 Reviews) | | abc + + + |  | | | Chapter Twenty-Eight
A Glass Of Wine
Spike took another long swig of whatever he was drinking. Another precious bottle of Joyce’s wine collection. The woman had to have some hard liquor somewhere. She liked alcohol too much and her taste was refined enough to merit some of the good stuff.
Asmodeus was commonly known as “The Destroyer” and had also made a name for himself as the Demon of Lust. In the scriptures, he was written to have been in love with a woman named Sarah, who was the daughter of Raguel. Sarah had been given seven husbands, and each had fallen victim to the demon’s jealousy before they could approach the marriage bed.
Tobias, son of Tobit, wanted to marry Sarah, and devised a way, with the help of the archangel Raphael, to drive off Asmodeus so that the marriage could be consummated. Raphael was said to be Asmodeus’s fiercest rival.
But then, Rupert wouldn’t go over that part of the history with the children. Emotions like love made demons sound soft. Anything that made them any less of what they were through human eyes.
He was dizzy with his need for his mate, and damn, they’d only been apart for an hour. The strain on the claim was wearing him down. He’d felt her range of emotions with enough fury that he concluded leaving was unneeded. Christ, he could practically see that wanker of a Watcher polishing his glasses while he lectured on the evils of taking on vampire mates, whether or not they were predestined.
Whether or not he was crazy in love with the girl and would never do anything to hurt her.
She’d been going on pure rage for the past forty-five minutes. Hell, his throat was sore from the impact of her screaming. He could understand; truly he could. Willow had been cold for less than twenty four hours, and she was acting like what had happened was years in the past.
It looked that way to people who didn’t understand. To people who were in the place he’d been in just a day ago. How could they be expected to explain the level of existence they’d reached together? The place where the argument about life and death wasn’t dominating, and the worries of the world, while prevalent, were accepted with understanding rather than fear.
He’d given Buffy peace, and they were being ostracized for it. Because peace with death was something that no human was familiar with. The capability of saying goodbye to loved ones was terrifying. None of her friends could be expected to understand, but he was hoping they’d make an effort to accept what had happened in the hours following Willow’s death. The sacrifices he’d made for Buffy—for himself. He’d killed his sire…wasn’t that supposed to mean something?
They needed their connection.
Well, bollocks. It didn’t matter. As long as she came home to him at the end of the day, let the world think what it would. He knew the truth. Humans couldn’t be expected to understand. These concepts were beyond humanity.
He just wanted Buffy home with him now. He wanted to hold her as she vented her outrage, kiss her tears away, and whisper that at the end of the day, everything would be all right.
He wanted to give her the impossible. He wanted to give her everything.
They needed to patrol tonight. A sigh ran through his body. They needed to patrol, because wishful thinking did little to render the remaining two active members of the Order piles of dust. Those who wanted the name. Those who relished it.
He wondered, truly, how upset Angelus was at Drusilla’s death. From experience, Spike knew his grandsire to be very protective of those in his family—well, those that he approved of. He hadn’t shed any tears over the Master, and should Spike meet a dusty end in the next few days, the big sod certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. No, he was protective of his mate. He was protective of those he sired; Drusilla and that wankerish Penn that had disappeared decades earlier.
Spike never knew what Penn had done to earn Angelus’s respect. His grandsire didn’t fancy other men sniffing around his women, though he had given Dru to Penn a time or two just to piss Spike off. Just to show him who was boss. No, he had no idea what it took to get into the old bastard’s good graces. It didn’t matter now, though. Nothing mattered.
Buffy would be home soon. She would walk through the door and find solace in his arms, because she was all that mattered anymore. She was everything.
And the Order? Good as dust.
Spike took another long swig of wine. He wanted her home now. Wanted to wrap himself in her arms and wish the world away.
A deep shudder ran through his body.
She was near. And he could feel her with every fiber of his being. Spike placed his bottle aside and rose to his feet. He could feel her tension. That seed of doubt, amidst anger and hostility, that what she was and what she’d become was wrong. That she was something less than what she should be simply because humans didn’t understand such enlightenment.
It was impossible to come between mates, and yet he feared it. God, he feared it.
What had happened wasn’t her fault. She had cried and bled a thousand years before they reached their peak. Before he realized what he needed, despite the guise of pain and suffering. When he’d taken her, it had liberated her pain. Had let her understand the hows and ends of life. Why things happened. How living wasn’t the same as forgetting.
The minute she opened the door and her eyes found his, he was a man lost.
“Buffy…”
“Don’t say anything,” she said, walking straight for him. She grabbed his head and jerked his mouth down to hers. And he melted into her, growling against her lips, his hands sliding under her hips, thrusting into her warm softness, his body quivering with desperation.
“I need you,” Buffy gasped. “Need you now.”
Her desperation was contagious. That innate blaze burning through him manifesting into a need to be one with her; to feel her around him, squeezing him into oblivion as she rode his cock and worked magic over his skin with that wondrous mouth of hers. A resounding growl rumbled in the back of his throat and reality flew out the window. The feel of her pressed against him had him unwound. There wasn’t enough time to cart her up to bed; he needed to feel her around him now.
Somewhere he knew that everything was reactionary. Sex was the most primal way to obtain that closeness, and in the infancy of a claiming ritual, it was practically a necessity. Though the day when he didn’t want this with her, crave the feel of her around him, was the day the earth knew a final end. For him, there would never be enough of this.
Her body was wrought with tension. He could feel frustration rolling off her, her mind infused with fear and self-doubt, and his outrage at her Watcher surmounted unfathomable feats.
“Spike, please,” she whimpered against his lips, tugging at his jeans. “Please.”
“I got you,” he murmured, propping her against the front door. “I got you, sweetheart.”
“I need—”
“I know. It’s all right.” He pressed a kiss to the claim mark on her throat, smiling when she shuddered against him. “It’s okay. Lemme take care of you.”
“I’m on fire.”
“Lemme make it better.” He began a descent of her body, tonguing her nipples through her shirt as his fingers unclasped her jeans, tugging them down her legs. She’d foregone panties—shit. “Oh Buffy…”
Her skin reddened. “I didn’t want…”
“You’re lucky I din’t know this before we left today,” he murmured. “Don’ know if I could’ve contained myself.”
“Ohhhh…”
He massaged her tenderly, eyes glued on her delectable pussy. The way she trembled, the way she quivered, the way she reacted to him; the warm rush of her honey running across his flesh. He caressed her quim gently, soaking up every heated sigh and needy whimper that kissed the air around them.
“All this is mine,” he murmured, barely aware that he spoke. He drew one of his Buffy-drenched fingers into his mouth and moaned at her taste. “Mmmm…”
“Spike!”
His eyes trailed heatedly up her body. “All mine,” he growled again, sinking two fingers inside her. “Say it, Buffy.”
“Yours,” she agreed, thrusting her hips against his invasive touch, gasping as he stretched her right leg over his shoulder. “You know I am.”
He kissed her stomach, then the tender patch of skin under her hip.
“Spike, please!”
“Tell me what you want.”
A muffled cry tore through her body and she fisted his hair, directing his mouth to her center. “Please!”
“You want my mouth here?”
She sobbed softly and nodded.
He loved seeing her like this. Loved seeing her so hot and desperate. Loved her knowing what she wanted—loved that he was the one that had taught her. He was the one, the only one, who knew the haven of her body. The only one that knew how rich she tasted. How she liked to be touched. How she gasped and begged.
Spike nipped at her teasingly, then drew her swollen clit into his mouth. Her answering mewl made his blood sing, his thrusting fingers driving his cock mad with envy. He treasured everything. Every sound she made, every indiscernible whimper that tumbled through her lips, every drive against his hand. His mouth suckled at her clit reverently, eyes trained on her face.
“Spiiiike!”
“Feel good, baby?”
She nodded fervently. “So good. Ohhhh…oh my God.”
“Mmmm…love the way you taste.” He sighed into her, deftly removing his fingers from her core, capturing her clit between his thumb and forefinger, stroking her tenderly. He plunged his tongue inside her without warning, and was rewarded with a hoarse scream and a violent jerk of her hips. He lapped at her eagerly, murmuring words of devotion into her rosy flesh as his mouth greedily slurped at everything she had to give him. Her honeyed juices drove him mad; the hint of her rich blood just beneath her skin playing upon his fangs. He couldn’t get enough of her. There was never enough of this.
“Spike!”
He licked her reverentially. “So tasty,” he purred. “So juicy. My ripe li’l peach.”
“Oh god…”
“So wet for me.”
“Oh GOD!” She thrust against him madly, her eyes wide with need. “Spike!”
He grinned at her, massaging her clit speedily as his tongue worshipped her pussy. She was close now. God, she was close. He could feel her body tightening; could feel the heat within escalating toward release. She was a fireball, his Slayer. She could make mountains bow with her passion.
“Spiiiike!”
“Let yourself go, pet. You’re so close. I can taste it.”
Buffy whimpered and shook her head. “Get…up here.”
“Mmm? But I like it right where I’m at…” He lapped at her, moaning his enthusiasm. “So hot. So tight…so wet. Always so wet for me.”
“I want you up here!” she gasped. “I want to come with you inside me.”
Spike growled, his insides searing with heat. Christ, the woman would be the end of him. And he was her willing servant, counting his blessings every day that this was what the world had decided to give him. He was on his feet in seconds, commanding her mouth in a fiery kiss, helping her in the frantic struggle to free his cock from his jeans. Then god, her hot little hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping him fervently as her lips worked up and down his throat. He was going to combust if she kept that up.
“Oh God,” he moaned, capturing her wrist. “Baby, you gotta…ahhh…”
Her freed leg curled around his waist, pulling him against her, her hand positioning him at her opening. “Need you,” she whimpered. “Need you, Spike. Please!”
This wasn’t going to be a long, dragged out union. The need to pound her into the door was too great. He’d worked himself into a frenzy by quenching his thirst for her taste; the feel of her around him, squeezing and sucking him into her had his mind fogged with lust. His need for her was too rampant. She was so hot. So tight. God, she was wet velvet tightening around him with every thrust.
“Ohhh!”
“Buffy,” he moaned against her mouth, pulling back just slightly and slamming into her again. She cried out, her nails digging into his arms. She was gripping him like a glove, the slide from her wet flesh sending a fury of white-hot shivers through his skin. “Oh, Christ.”
“Harder.”
He was helpless to do nothing but oblige her. His mouth dropped to her breasts, tugging at her nipples through her shirt as his body rocked against hers. “You’re so hot,” he murmured into her. “So fucking perfect. Gah…”
“Oh God, I love you,” she whispered, linking her hands behind his neck, pressing her brow to his. “You feel…”
Spike’s eyes burned hers. “How?” he demanded. “How do I feel?”
“Perfect,” she murmured. “You feel perfect. So good. Like…ohhh, like the part of me…that’s…that’s been…missing.”
He cadenced hard against her, seizing a kiss from her lips, a hand sliding between them. “You’re a goddess,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her throat, nibbling lightly on her skin.
She made a small gasping sound every time her back crashed against the door. He didn’t know what kept the house from collapsing.
“Ohhh!”
“So perfect. So fucking perfect.” His fingers found her clit, his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, anchoring her into his thrusts. “So mine.”
“Spike!” she gasped.
“Fuck yeh, that’s it,” he growled. “My hot, tight li’l Slayer. Give it to me. All of it. Don’ even think of holdin’ back.” His thrusts grew frantic, grasping her desperately, his mouth worshipping her throat. She felt so good. With every plunge; every parry. The incoherent murmurings that tumbled from her lips, the way she scratched riverbeds into his skin as her vaginal walls squeezed him into the next life. “Love you, baby. Love you so much.”
“Oh God!” she cried, her hips driving madly against him. “Oh God!”
“Like wet velvet. You’re so hot. So bloody hot.” His fingers manipulated her clit speedily, his cock swallowed in her warmth. God, he never wanted to leave her. “An’ you’re close. You’re so…close…I can feel it.”
“Spike…”
“Come for me, sweetling.” His fangs burst through his gums, pricking at her throat. “Wanna feel you come around me. Stranglin’ me. Wanna hear you scream as I taste you.”
“Oh!”
He couldn’t help himself anymore. The scent of her taunted him, and his fangs could no longer ignore the call of her blood. His incisors sliced through her milky flesh, his demon growling in joy as her warm essence flooded his mouth. There was nothing more sacred than this. Nothing more precious than the feel of her warm, tight body, her cry of release ringing through the air as she shuddered and came violently against him.
He snarled again as he spilled himself inside her, thrusting hard into her pussy, demanding as much from her as she had to give. It seemed to last forever, this bliss he’d found with her. That moment between desperation and completion that stretched for a millennia.
She gave him such peace.
They collapsed together as the world came crashing back, their mingled pants coloring the air as they curled in a twist of limbs on the floor. He realized belatedly that his fangs were still in her throat; he released her immediately, his arms wrapping around her, hugging her to him in reverence. Her legs were around his waist, her thighs cradling him, holding him within her as his eyes cleared and he remembered where they were.
God…
How he had lived before the claim was beyond him. He’d felt love before; now he experienced it. He experienced it with every beat that passed between them.
He had no idea how long they remained like that. Buffy breathing hard against him, her face buried in his shoulder, her hands clutching him snugly. Spike exhaled deeply and lapped at the wound on her throat, shuddering as her taste filled him. The feeling that coursed through his skin, the boundless sensation of having her in his arms nearly inspired tears to his eyes. He’d wept so hard for her, it seemed; at times, it was necessary to stop and reflect and realize where he was. That Buffy was really in his arms, and what they had, despite the chaotic world around them, was real.
Buffy trembled and raised her head after a few minutes, her eyes finding his. “Hi,” she said, kissing his lips.
“Hi.”
“That was quite a ‘welcome home.’”
Spike’s gaze twinkled. “You say it as though you din’t beg for it.”
She blushed prettily, but didn’t try to deny it. Instead, she bowed her head and focused on an imaginary spot on his t-shirt. “Is this the way it’s gonna be?” she asked. “After being away from you for an hour, I need to…have you…when I see you again?”
He grinned. “You complainin’?”
“Well, I’m just worried about what happens if we meet up in a public place rather than the privacy of my motherless house.”
“This is jus’ the claim’s reaction to it bein’ young an’ inexperienced, pet,” he replied. “Sex is the most basic way to obtain intimacy, an’ it’s the default position of the claim after separation…or a need for rekindled closeness. I guess most couples aren’t separated for any amount of time within the firs’ twenty-four hours.”
“So we work on other levels of intimacy?”
“Unless you wanna explore the many facets of voyeurism.” His head dipped and he nibbled on her throat with a purr of satisfaction. “Though don’ get it into your pretty head that our sex life will ever be in question. Not a day’ll go by when I don’ want you like this.”
“Good. The feeling’s mutual.”
Spike raised his head. “Oh really?”
“Mhmm,” she agreed with a pleased hum, eyes shining with such love it stole his breath from his lips. “I’ll jump you if I have to.”
He chuckled. “That I’d like to see.”
Buffy smiled coyly. “Well, I guess I can always tell Mom that I can’t help it if I need to have a lot of sex.”
“’m sure she’ll understand,” he agreed. “She called, by the way.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh God. You didn’t, you know, answer the phone, did you?”
“Yeh, because I’m that stupid. No, she left a message. She’ll be back day after tomorrow.”
Something fell on Buffy’s face and she released a deep breath. “She’s not going to take this well.”
“You don’ know that.”
“Spike, she was gone for a week and in that time—”
“You need to give her more credit.” Spike shook his head. “She’s a smart bird, luv. She wants the best for you…an’ yeh, comin’ out with everything’s gonna be a li’l much, but she’ll understand. Eventually, she’ll understand.”
Buffy sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said.
“Nothin’ is wrong with you.”
“Giles and—”
“Nothin’ is wrong with you. They jus’ don’ understand.” Spike sighed and lifted her off his lap so that he slipped out of her, swallowing her moan of complaint with a kiss. “Jus’ don’ fancy talkin’ ‘bout your mum an’ your mates while I’m inside you, pet.”
“And here I was just getting comfy,” she pouted, reaching between them and taking his semi-hard cock in her hand, stroking him gently.
Spike moaned and willed his eyes shut. “You’re not playin’ fair, luv.”
“I just like seeing that look on your face.” She grinned, then sighed again and ceased her attentions, kissing his shoulder when he whimpered. “I’m not sure I understand, either.”
“Huh’s that?”
“I don’t think I understand what’s happened to me yet.”
“But you know something’s happened. An’ you know what the answer is, even ‘f you don’ know the other half of the equation yet.” Spike rested his brow against hers and sighed. “We’ll get there, baby. It jus’ takes time.”
“It’s hard to convince myself that I’m not a monster when my friend’s been dead for just a day and this is what I’m doing.”
“That’s because you’re thinkin’ like a human, an’ you’re not that anymore.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I have the distinct advantage of havin’ been human, luv. I know the feeling. I know it very well. An’ while I can’t tell you why it’s okay, I do know that it’s okay. We’re not like them anymore. Not your mates, not my family. Not the bloody pulsers in this town or the vamps that run rampant across the earth. We’re different. We don’ have all the answers yet, but that’s okay. We’ll find out together.”
Buffy smiled a watery smile and curled her arms around him, hugging him close. And for several minutes, they just sat together on the floor, lost in each other’s embrace.
“I love you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his throat.
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He released a deep breath and drew back. “An’ I have somethin’ for you.”
She met his eyes mischievously, her hand wandering back to his cock. “I’ll say.”
He caught her wrist with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You randy li’l minx.”
“Well, yeah. And by the way, did you hear that? I could’ve sworn I heard the pot calling the kettle something.”
Spike smirked and helped her to her feet, tucking himself back into his jeans before helping her straighten up. “Come here, pet,” he said gently. “I keep meanin’ to give this to you an’ forgettin’.”
Buffy’s eyes sparkled with interest. “What is it?”
“It’s in the other room.”
The gift itself was sitting on the sofa in a brown grocery sack. Spike released a deep breath. He’d told her a half-truth: his failure to give this to her before now hadn’t been a matter of forgetting—the timing had never seemed right. And perhaps the timing was far off now; he didn’t know. But he wanted to do something for her. Something that spoke for his feelings and gave her some comfort in her identity—that no matter what else changed, there were some fundamental things about her that never would.
The most important things, for instance, never would.
“Sorry about the wrappin’,” he said, grabbing the sack from the couch.
“It’s an actual prezzie?”
He looked down. “Yeh. It’s…look, I know a thousand things have gone wrong since I came back into your life. I know that it…I know it’s not gonna be easy, convincin’ your mates that I’m not the anti-Christ an’ your mum that I’m not in your life with the sole intention of sullyin’ your virtue. I know that the things that have happened in the last day are gonna be with you for a long time, an’ I know that you’re worried about what it means…for you. I know it might’ve been easier if I’d never met you. I’m not completely thick…I know it.”
Buffy looked as though she was ready to cry. “Spike—”
“But I also know that you love me, an’ I know that you know that I love you. That’s why it’s not easy, sweetling. Love never is. But I promise to always make it worth it. No matter what we do or what happens…” He released a deep breath. “I’ll never regret what happened to bring me here.”
“Spike, I—”
He handed her the sack. “You’re an amazin’ woman, Buffy.”
She took the sack but didn’t look at it. Her eyes wouldn’t budge from his. “I’ll never regret it, either,” she told him. “And yeah, you’re right. It might’ve been easier if we’d never met, but I’d never wish that. Never.”
Spike smiled. “Open your prezzie, luv.”
She held his gaze a minute longer before turning her attention to his gift, her eyes going wide in amazement as she lifted a worn teddy bear from the brown-paper. “Oh my God.”
“You like it?”
“Mr. Jenkins!”
Spike grinned ear-to-ear. “You remember the doll’s name?”
“It’s not a doll, it’s a bear. You kept Mr. Jenkins?” Delight filled her eyes. “Oh, Spike…I…” She turned her attention to the bear and snuggled it to her chest. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“I take it you’re talkin’ to Jenks, there.”
“I can’t believe you kept this!”
“Of course I kept it. It was the firs’ thing you gave me.” He smiled bashfully and turned his attention to the floor. “Figured Jenks might wanna come home now. You gave it to me so I wouldn’t forget you.”
She nodded. “I remember.”
“Told you I never would.”
“He didn’t let you.” She rubbed the bear’s head affectionately. “Mr. Jenkins is magical like that.”
“He was a good pal over the years.”
“I can’t believe…I can’t…oh, Spike…” She placed the bear on the coffee table and rushed to her lover’s arms, cupping his face and kissing him tenderly. “You know,” she said softly, “whenever I thought I’d imagined you…when I was little…before you came back…I’d remind myself that Mr. Jenkins didn’t get up and walk away on his own.”
“Yeh?”
“And you gave me Mr. Gordo.”
He grinned. “That I did, luv.”
She kissed him again. “Thank you.”
“I love you, Buffy.”
“I love you, too.” She paused a minute, worrying a lip between her teeth. “We need to go patrol.”
He didn’t want to budge, but he knew that it was necessary. The last thing they could afford to do, especially with the fresh wounds of the night before, was grow comfortable in the newness of the connection they shared. Especially with his demon’s need for blood in turn for the sins his family had committed against his mate. “Yeh.”
“There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Buffy smiled and gently pushed him to the ground. “There’s something I gotta do.”
The next thing he knew, she was straddling his hips, her mouth wrestling long, needy kisses from his as her hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. His cock sprang into her waiting grasp the next second, and his entire being was swallowed in warmth.
“Oh Christ!”
“Mmmm,” she murmured in agreement, sliding down his body, her hand pumping his length rhythmically. “I never start something without finishing it.”
“Buffy!”
Her tongue traced the underside of his erection, her mouth closing around his sensitive head and suckling sweetly. “This time,” she said. “There will be no pulling away.”
“Oh God.”
She paused just a second and his body screamed in protest. Spike watched in awed fascination as she turned Mr. Jenkins away, so he was facing the entry. “This isn’t for the eyes of childhood toys,” she said, lowering her head and swallowing him again.
The sight of her hot mouth around his cock was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He was a man lost. So, so lost.
God, he loved her so much.
“No pulling away,” she murmured, lapping at him sweetly.
He’d never pull away from her. Never.
No matter what the future held, what they had now was forever.
He would battle for it until the end of the world. There would be no rest. He had the one thing worth fighting for. And nothing—nothing—was going to take her away from him now.
To be continued in Chapter Twenty-Nine: Turning The Backdoor Key… | | | | | | | |
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