Part Seven
He was licking the dried blood off her breast, a contented purr rumbling through his throat, his hips rocking rhythmically against hers. It took a few minutes for light to pierce the fog swimming around her head. She felt his cock hardening within her, felt her body’s treacherous reaction as fire lit her veins.
God, he couldn’t be doing this to her again.
“I could stay in your quim forever,” Spike sighed, his lips and tongue tenderly caring to the wounds his fangs had inflicted. “You’re so tight, baby. Feel so fucking wonderful.”
Buffy tried hard to repress the shiver that his words inspired, but she couldn’t. It was all so new. She hadn’t had The Talk following her night with Angel; he’d assumed her too shaken and too overwhelmed to discuss what they’d done, so they’d fallen asleep. When she awoke, he was gone, and they hadn’t mentioned that night once since his return from Hell.
“Mmm…” He flashed her a wicked grin, his fingers slipping between them again. Her clit was throbbing, and she jumped a bit when he began to massage her again. “Buffy…”
Her heart pounded. The sound of her name on his lips like that as his cock slid in and out of her pussy was perhaps the most erotic thing she’d ever heard.
“Ohhh…”
“That feel good, kitten?” His mouth fell to her neck, suckling eagerly at her skin. “Come for me. Wanna feel you come again.”
The words were ultimately what sent her over the edge—the words wrapped around the rough arousal in his voice. Buffy threw her head back, choking a pleasured sob as her body spasmed violently around his. She felt him jerk against her, his arms crushing her to his chest as he roared into climax.
Every nerve in her body was alive. Buffy didn’t realize how hard she was trembling until she felt his lips against her shoulder, and the unexpected tenderness of his kiss served as the proverbial bucket of ice water. Slowly, timidly, she willed herself to meet his eyes, and was stunned with what she saw.
He wasn’t smirking arrogantly or waggling his brows to further her humiliation. Instead, his eyes were awash with astonishment. Buffy heaved for air as though drowning. She couldn’t breathe enough.
“Let me go,” she said suddenly, wiggling on his lap and earning little more than a long, strangled moan. “Let me go! Spike, damn you!”
Suddenly his cock slipped out of her, and she was left, her mind panicked but her body pliant with the orgasms he’d given her. She didn’t pause to think—rather, scurried across the small room to her corner, pressing her sweat-laced back to the steel perdition with a long, trembling sigh.
There were no words. She was too embarrassed to speak.
Though hardly any time had passed, it had taken longer than she thought. The first waves of unspeakable remorse. The knowledge that she had betrayed everything she stood for. The look on Angel’s face when he found out what she…
Spike rustled from where she left him, readjusting his jeans without muttering a word. He looked wounded, abandoned, but didn’t make a move to follow her; instead, he edged to the opposite wall, finding her dress and sliding it to her without a word.
Buffy bit her lip and closed her fingers around the fabric. She met his eyes cautiously and sighed.
“Go on,” he said, his tone clipped. “Get dressed.”
She was shaking too hard to move, and instead tucked the dress under her arms so that her breasts were covered. The leather of his discarded duster tickled her bare leg, but she made no move to return it. She wanted to melt into the shadows—disappear completely and sleep until she forgot what had happened here. What she had done, and how she had betrayed herself, her Calling, and the guy she loved.
The silence couldn’t last, of course. Spike wouldn’t allow that, no matter how much space he was trying to give her. When he spoke again, his voice was small and uncertain—his tone a thousand miles from where it had just been. For all things, Spike sounded as though he was as lost as she felt. “Slayer?”
She spoke before she thought. “Shut up.”
Spike’s eyes darkened. “No. You don’ get to do that.”
“I said shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You can imagine how bad I feel about that.”
“Stop it!”
He ignored her. Instead, he defiantly rose to his feet and paraded across the small room, grasping her by the shoulders and dragging her to her feet. Her dress fell to the ground, and she was suddenly naked against him, her pussy throbbing still from having had him inside her. And yet, despite everything, she was wet, and she knew that he knew it. His eyes flickered and his nostrils flared, and he pressed his cock against her, the zipper of his jeans grinding against her clit. It hurt—it felt wonderful. And she was as lost as ever.
I’m sick. I am one sick puppy.
“This isn’t about makin’ you comfy. You can’t let me do that to you an’ expect—”
“I’m sorry, let you?”
Buffy struggled. Surges of what she hoped was her returning power shot through otherwise flaccid muscles, but the strain was futile. She thought about kneeing him but concluded it wasn’t the best strategy. After all, despite everything that had changed, there was still nowhere to run.
Furthermore, she knew that her hostility was without merit. As much as the idea appealed to her, blaming Spike was useless. She’d let it happen; hell, she’d wanted it. And now that it was done and logic had returned, there was nothing left but acceptance. It was time to pick up the shattered pieces and move on.
Her body trembled. “Spike…” she pleaded gently. “Please…just leave me alone.”
Spike’s eyes softened, but he didn’t let her go. “Can’t do that, Slayer,” he replied, almost regretfully. “Not sure…I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. Sorry for what…not for what we did, because that was brilliant, but I don’t want you to…I won’t tell a soul.” He paused effectively. “Any soul.”
His selflessness astounded her. For all her guilt, she hadn’t even considered the damage hecould inflict. What he could do the minute he saw Angel again—how he could destroy everything with words.
At the same time, there was no reason to believe him—nothing beyond the want of civility. But even then, she trusted him. She didn’t know how or why, but she trusted him. The look in his eyes spoke volumes. He meant it. God, he meant every word.
“Really?”
She hated the neediness in her voice, but he had the power right now.
Spike offered a sad smile and nodded, slowly relinquishing his hold on her. “Really.”
“Why?”
“Number of reasons,” he replied, glancing down. “But Christ, I wasn’ sure before, I sure as hell am now.”
“Sure about what?”
“Dru…what she said.” Spike ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna keep my mouth shut because of fear of what you might do, pet. I know you’d stake me in a heartbeat if I said a word. An’ I’m not doin’ it to spare Angel’s precious feelings.”
She was afraid of the answer, but the question came anyway. “Then why?”
There was a pregnant pause, his eyes shining with hurt, even if he was resigned. “’m doin’ it because you love him. It doesn’ matter what happened here; don’ you think I know that? You love him, an’ if I made a thing outta what we did, it’d hurt you.” Spike shook his head, and glanced down with another sigh. “I don’ know why I should care, so don’t ask. My mind’s all muddled. But I…what I do know is that…you’re somethin’, Slayer. Somethin’ I can’t…”
“What are you—”
“I’m sayin’ that no vamp should ever feel this way. Not about you, or any slayer. It’s not right—goddammit, it’s not right. Soul or no soul.” He huffed. “But at leas’ Angel has the excuse. I got squat except the accusation from a bird who chats up dollies all day.”
It hit her then. Everything came tumbling down. Everything. The pieces of what he said, the way he’d held her while he’d been inside her, the soft nicknames he’d called her as his hands caressed her skin. He’d taken her with anger, but he’d held her with affection. With tenderness. With…
The room was spinning. Buffy pressed a hand to her stomach and gasped. “Oh God.”
Spike glanced up. “What?”
“You…oh God. You can’t! You—”
His hands flew up in protest. “I din’t say anythin’.”
“You almost.”
There was no sense denying that. “Yeah. So?” He released a long, guttural growl and began to pace again. “Do you fucking get it now? Understand why I’m so fucking horrified? She said more than…she told me that I’m bloody in love with you. She told me I can’t kill you because of what I feel. She told me…” He met her horrified eyes with breathtaking simplicity. “It’s not true. It bloody can’t be. Fuck, it’s too crazy to be true…even for her. You don’ even like me, an’ I hate you.” He paused. “Only I don’t hate you, an’ that’s the problem. An’ no matter, I’m an evil thing, right? Even if it was true, I’m not daft enough to think I’ll ever have more than this. I jus’ had to see. Had to prove her wrong. Had to…” Emotion stormed his eyes, and he tore his gaze away again, focusing on the floor. “Had to have you. Jus’ to see. God, I’ve buggered everything up.”
“Spike.” The softness in her voice surprised her, but it was authentic, and she found she couldn’t summon any anger or disgust. “You’ve had me in here for hours. You’ve had the chance to kill me—” She waved a bit with a weak grin. “—the Slayer…and you haven’t.” Buffy pursed her lips and hazarded a step forward. “And you are evil. Dru can’t change that…no matter how much she says you’re not.”
He flashed a grateful smile at that. It was perhaps the most awkward moment of her life. She was standing in the dark with a vampire that hated her, her body sated from the orgasms he’d given her, and she found, to her utter dismay, that she wanted him again. The fog had lifted and clarity had been returned, and God, she wanted him again. Wanted him even as she assured him that he was still evil, despite his seeming inability to kill her. She was standing just a foot or so away from him, naked, telling him that he was evil, and she wanted him.
“And look at me,” she continued, her tone loud and forced. She needed to remind herself of who he was. What he was. Why she was utterly and irreversibly screwed up for wanting more of what she could never have. “I slept with evil.”
“Yeah.” Buffy could have been mistaken, but she thought she saw the corners of his mouth tugging in his characteristic smirk. “An’ you liked it.”
Nope. Not mistaken at all.
“Hey—”
“Wasn’ an accusation, pet. You bloody liked it.”
“And here I was thinking you weren’t as repulsive as I’d thought.”
He scoffed. “Very funny.”
“I wasn’t aiming for funny.”
“Point is, you’re around darkness all the time. It’s natural.” The understanding in his eyes nearly tore her apart. He was comforting her, reassuring her, doing everything he shouldn’t for the want of something he couldn’t possibly feel. “What’s not natural is me. Standin’ here an’ not wantin’ to rip your throat out. I’m not sayin’ I’m in love with you, Slayer. But I’m also not…well, let’s just say that anything’s possible after that.”
“Spike—”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’ worry about it. I din’t say anythin’. Anyway, I jus’ wanted to let you know that. What we did here…your secret’s safe with me.”
What we have here is an ethical dilemma, Buffy reflected with a long sigh. He was speaking words she’d never expected from any vampire. It was as though the past had been erased: there were no more battles, no more spilt blood, no more teases or taunts or vehement threats. In the end, it was just them. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and William the Bloody. Spike. It was Spike. Spike as in ewwww. Spike as in her self-titled executioner. Spike, who had tried to kill her with more fervor than any other.
That’s not quite true, is it?
“Things are about to get very interesting,” Angelus hissed in her ear before subjecting her to the iciest kiss she had ever received.
She shuddered.
“You’re going to hell.”
“Save me a seat.”
Spike had never toyed with her the way Angelus had. Not once.
Buffy met his eyes again and was overwhelmed in his confused compassion, and just like that, some final barrier was crossed. She didn’t love him. She would probably never love him. But he had given her something that no one else had. It wasn’t about Drusilla or Angel; it was about them. It was about them, and tonight. And that was all she needed.
“Spike.”
“Pet?”
She wet her lips, trembling. “It’s not…we’re not done yet.”
“I was countin’ on that.”
“I mean…the Council.” She nodded to the closed door. “We’re not done. They’re expecting us to fight.”
“Not now.” Spike shook his head emphatically. “Not after what we’ve done. Bloody hell, Slayer, if I couldn’t do it before, what makes you think I can do it now?”
Buffy offered a watery smile, taking a step forward. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing, but she did not falter. It was wrong. It was disgusting. It was more than immoral. And she couldn’t do this to Angel…
And yet it came so easily.
She could drown in the blue of his eyes. The intensity with which he regarded her grew with every exchange. Angel never revealed as much through a single look. It was unfair that his utilitarian childe should render the burnings of a soul that he did not possess. Where did Spike end and Buffy begin?
Oh God…
“It’s not that,” she whispered against his lips before sealing the space between them. Spike moaned and melted into her, his hands going to her hips and his clad cock thrusting desperately against her wet pussy. God, he was quivering—quivering and holding her as though she would break. He cupped her face as he explored her mouth with his. He melted her with his lips—God, she didn’t know it was possible to reveal so much through a kiss. It was unlike anything she’d ever given or received in the past; his touch spread through her like the very origin of desire.
He maintained tenderness while refusing to hold back his passion. They were battling within seconds—teeth and tongue waged against each other as his hands explored her body. In a flash, Spike had her pressed against the wall once more. His eagerness touched her.
And then it hit. Realization hit.
This wasn’t about sex. Not to Spike. Not now. He wanted her. He wanted her. Not any slayer. Not any woman. No one, right now, but her. He was kissing her like he loved her, touching her like he loved her, and all she could offer him was a few hours until sunrise. Until the Council decided enough was enough and came into declare a winner.
She couldn’t give him anything but this moment. And even on the chance of ruining this, of breaking their peace, she had to let him know. This was all they’d ever have. She wasn’t going to use him—fuel him with promises of a future that couldn’t exist.
Buffy mewled in protest and broke her lips from his; fighting off a gasp as his amorous mouth fell to her throat. “This isn’t…” Words suddenly seemed bland and inadequate. There was nothing she could say to make this right. “Spike, this is…”
“Jus’ tonight, I know.” He suckled ardently at the bite mark he’d given her, and every nerve in her body exploded in ecstasy. “I get that. But fuck, Slayer…doesn’ it make you wonder? Jus’ a little? How fucking great we’d be together? God, you’re so warm. I’m gonna drown in you. God help me…”
It was only logical that Spike—with as much as he talked—would eventually know exactly what to say. “God doesn’t help creatures like you,” she retorted, reaching again for his zipper. The moan that rumbled through him as his cock sprang into her waiting hand was worth everything.
“Well, whatever he’s doin’ works for me.” He bucked against her sharply. “Jus’…like that, luv. Stroke me jus’ like that.”
“No. Gaahh, Spike, I need—” She wrapped a leg around his waist, using her leverage to maneuver his jeans down his legs. Her other arm locked behind his neck, tugging him into her as she positioned him at her opening, teasing her slick folds with the velvety head of his erection.
“I know what you need, baby,” he growled, thrusting into her with a moan of delight.
“Ohhh!”
“Oh, fuck, it gets better every time.”
Her eyes watered. For being crass and obnoxious, he was truly one of the sweetest guys she’d ever known. “Really?”
Spike rested his brow against hers, panting heavily against her lips. She cried out when she felt him sliding between her lips, her body screaming in protest until he entered her again. “You’re perfect.”
“Oh, God.”
“God, I knew,” he murmured, kissing her cheek, then dipping his head to taste her lips again. “I had to. The firs’ moment I saw you.”
“Knew what?” They couldn’t get close enough. He could swallow her completely, and they wouldn’t be close enough.
Spike sighed raggedly, holding her eyes as he moved within her. And God, there was nothing else like it. Nothing like the feel of him sliding in and out of her body. Nothing like the awe that powered his eyes. No one had ever looked at her like that. No one—not even Angel. Now Spike was gazing at her like she was his personal savior, his body loving her in ways that words never could. She cried out and tore a long kiss from his mouth, thrusting her hips against his with need she barely understood.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured. “So tight an’ perfect. God, Buffy…”
He was calling her Buffy.She didn’t know when that had started, though she was certain it was a product of the past few hours.
“Make this never end.” Spike whimpered and buried his face in her throat, his thrusts rocking her against the wall, his hands holding her fiercely now; as though if he relinquished his hold, she’d disappear completely. “God, make this never end.”
The tears threatening to spill down her cheeks were growing more and more difficult to hold back. The desperation in his voice, the need in his trembling body doing more to break her heart when she knew he didn’t have a claim on it. Had it only been hours? Why did he have this power over her after only a few hours? “Spike…”
“I knew…I knew…”
Buffy shuddered and kissed his shoulder, her vaginal muscles tightening around him. “What did you know?” she asked, threading her fingers through his platinum locks.
“Knew this.” He nipped at the shell of her ear, sliding a hand between their thrusting bodies to capture her clit. His skin burned with cold. The tightness surrounding him was immeasurable; how he had survived this long without indulging in such raw bliss was beyond him. Only now he had heaven in his arms; Buffy was his, at least for the night. Her pussy was swallowing his cock and her scent was perfumed around him. He’d found rapture, fleeting as it was.
These precious moments would have to last him an eternity.
Spike had known, somehow, that it would be like this. There was nothing but such knowledge. Vampires and slayers were one thing—he and Buffy? Together, they could conquer dynasties.
“I knew…” He massaged her clit slowly, drinking in every moan that whispered through her lips. Every choked sob of pleasure that wracked her body. Every time she trembled and clutched at him—his mind was on record. Somewhere through the haze, his thoroughly unapologetic conscience knew that this was the closest to paradise he’d ever get, and while paradise itself wasn’t something he actively pursued, this taste would undoubtedly leave him wanting for the rest of his days. “Oh, God, I knew. Saw you dancing that night an’ I wanted nothin’ else. Wanted this. Wanted to fuck you all night. Wanted to…” He paused. He was growing dangerously poetic, and from experience, he knew that his poetic tendencies led to revelations. Buffy already had more than enough power over him. Too much. He needed to distance himself. Needed so badly to make this about what she wanted it to be about. Just sex. No strings. Nothing more. “Wanted to bury myself in your cunt an’—”
She trembled. “Don’t say that,” she berated, flushing.
“Oh, but you love it.” He smirked and nipped at her lips. “My dirty li’l Slayer. Such a bad girl. That’s why you—”
“Spike…”
Without realizing it, his thrusts had grown harder, pounding her against the wall. And while his animalesque ardor took her by storm, she was surprised at his ability to bruise her with his body and love her at the same time. The fangs and the blood were gone, leaving his ardent rumbles against her skin, lips grazing her shoulder as he held her steady against him. His nimble fingers were exploring where they were joined, massaging her intently.
“Sorry, luv.”
Had he done something that needed apologizing? Buffy didn’t remember.
“All…right…it’s…” And then she exploded around him, and the world came tumbling down. Her reactions were something that poets wrote about. She was a goddess in his arms, bucking in wild throes as she rode out her orgasm. And all he could do was hold her. “Oh God. Spike!”
The sound of his name was all he needed. He locked an arm around Buffy’s waist, his other hand braced against the wall, thrusting madly into her until he roared and came. And even as he began to come down, his hips thrust forward—trying to capture as much as possible before it was over.
“Buffy…” he moaned.
Her name tingled every nerve in her body, and finally, the full implication of her name on his lips slammed into her with full force. Not pet, luv, kitten, or Slayer. She was Buffy. Just Buffy. There was no world. There was no world. There was no Angel. There was nothing but him—buried within her—kissing her languidly while holding her to him in lasting desperation. Afraid to forfeit contact. Afraid to do anything to jinx one moment of perfection.
Forever passed before Spike lifted her with him, carrying her with him and lowering her to the ground. They lay face-to-face; his grip tight around her waist, his cock remaining locked inside her body. The emotion in his eyes was overwhelming.
“I don’ know…” he murmured sleepily, his lips grazing the love bite on her neck.
“What?”
“God, pet. None of this was s’posed to happen.”
There was the truth—plain and simple. He was right. But how could either of them go back after this?
Spike shifted against her and released a trembling sigh. “I don’ know how I’m gonna…”
It was somewhat disconcerting that he could read her mind.
“You’re going to,” she said softly. “We both are.”
He shook his head stubbornly, his mouth refusing to stop kissing her. Her neck. Her breasts. Her lips. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her shoulder. He just couldn’t stop kissing her. “Now that I’ve tasted this…God. I can’t…”
“Sure you can.” Buffy closed her eyes and stretched. “And so can I.”
“You have Angel, kitten. Movin’ on isn’t exactly a big thing for you.” The vampire sighed, pillowing his arm under her head, stroking her face lovingly. “An’ now I’m lost. Fuck, I’m lost. There’s no place in this bloody world for a soulless prat who pines for the Slayer.”
“Nothing happened here.”
His eyes fell shut and his features were wrought with pain. And God, she could cut out her tongue. It made her ache to think she could potentially have that affect on him. But nothing could change what she knew or what he was. What she could never give him. What she could never say to make it better.
Could she? He wasn’t supposed to reach this far for her sake, but he had. Was it so hard that she couldn’t do the same?
She knew now that whatever he felt was authentic. Someone who felt nothing could not look that wrecked.
“That’s all well an’ good for you,” he retorted bitterly. “You can walk away. You can back to your boy an’ your bloody perfect life with the li’l Scooby Gang at the ready to crack the next case. I can’t. This is all I’ll get. Shouldn’t have gotten anything. An’ now I…”
It suddenly became essential to change conversation. To stretch within that line of comfort. To get him to a place far away from here. She didn’t want to hurt anyone—not him. Not now. Not after what they had shared.
“You never told me what your favorite movie is,” she said, her segue awful, but the pained look on his face even more so.
Spike pulled away, his cock slipping out of her, and he rolled over on his side, away from her. Buffy whimpered in protest and reached for him, and when he didn’t respond, she wrapped an arm around his chest, pressing her breasts to his back and kissing his neck softly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was perhaps the hardest thing she’d ever said.
Spike didn’t say anything. He just sighed and covered her hand with his.
“You don’t think this is going to be hard for me?” she asked.
“Should I?”
“Of course. Having to live with—”
“Oh, don’ gimme that.” He huffed but didn’t release her hand. “Don’ tell me how bad you’re gonna feel, or any of those sodding dramatics. I know, Slayer. No need to rub it in. I know you’ve done everythin’ you know not to, an’ it meant nothin’ to you. I get it.” His voiced muffled slightly, burning with the stench of tears that an evil thing was not supposed to shed. The implication moved her more than anything. She didn’t know how, but she’d somehow touched the bleeding poet within. “But it meant somethin’ to me, an’ I can’t go back.”
She swallowed hard. “You think it meant nothing to me?”
“’Sides the destruction of your morals? Not a bloody thing.”
“You think I would have screwed any vampire I got trapped with tonight?” Buffy squeezed him tighter, but he didn’t respond. And it hit at last—everything came full circle, and she understood with earth-shattering simplicity. Fear. That was what this was about. Fear. Her sudden lack of her strength was supposed to be the worst thing that could happen, but it wasn’t. Not now. Spike had changed that, and now she faced with loss. “No. It was you. It was always going to be you. This…I said I loved Angel. I’ve believed that for so long. I still…but can I call it love if it was this easy for me to…I got trapped with you, and…”
She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t deny everything she had trusted for the past year. Every nerve of her body ached for Angel—or it had, once upon a time. She didn’t know anymore if she was aching for her vampire boyfriend or the memory of what they had once shared. What they had once shared was no longer possible. She had loved him, she knew, but there had been so little time for love in the duration of their relationship. The heartache and angst that had haunted every second she’d shared with him had nearly crippled her. So was her love genuine? Could it be genuine? Just a few short weeks ago, she’d been so ready to say goodbye and move on. Was it possible that she’d moved on without realizing it?
Buffy released a trembling sigh and rested her head against his shoulder, brushing a kiss against his throat. “Honestly, Spike, I don’t know what’s happened. I know that it wouldn’t have been just anyone. I don’t know what will happen…God, that terrifies me. But you were right about one thing.”
He waited. God, he really wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
“I can’t just walk away. I don’t know…but I don’t want you gone.”
“What are you sayin’?”
Good question.
“I’m saying I need time.” Buffy honestly didn’t realize that she was saying that until the words tumbled through her lips. God, she really did. She needed time. She didn’t want Spike gone, because she liked this. She liked holding him, and being held by him. She liked everything about him once the anger was gone. She wanted time to consider what she wanted, and she was open, for the first time, that what she might want was right in front of her. “I need time…to think. To get what it is exactly that I did tonight. What it means. And I understand if that’s not good enough for you…but it’s all I have, and I hope—”
It happened fast. Spike rolled over and grasped her arm, growling and pulling her down for a passionate kiss. Pleasure exploded through her veins and she grasped for him, whimpering as her tongue warred with his. As his hands caressed her skin. As she allowed the window of possibility to open, and saw, somewhere, where this could lead her.
They pulled apart a few minutes later, panting. He rested his brow against hers, his chest rumbling with a contented purr against her breasts.
“It’s not fair to you,” Buffy admitted the next second, her eyes fluttering shut. “ I get that. I’m not going to use you to test my love for…I’m not saying anything. I might blame you when I get my mind cleared. I can’t think right now. When we get out of here…come back. Leave and come back. Let some time pass. We’ll see where to go from there.”
That was practical, right? The look in his eyes suggested otherwise, but it was better than nothing. To know they might, someday, have this again. To know the best might still be yet to come.
Spike nodded after a few seconds, and forced a grin. “An’ what do we tell the wankers from the Council?” he asked, edging back with her until their backs were pressed against the wall again. “That we decided to fuck each other senseless instead of fight to the death? But oh, please don’ tell Peaches, the Watcher, or the Scoobies ‘cause we’re still tryin’ to figure this thing out?”
“We tell them nothing.” That wouldn’t go over well, and they both knew it. At his skeptical glance, Buffy sighed and conceded. “All right. You’re not exactly a conventional vampire. We tell them that you decided it would be wasteful to kill a slayer without the fun involved. Without the fight and…the fight. We kept our truce formed when I killed Angel, and decided the best way to fight was…not to fight.”
Spike’s brows perched incredulously. “An’ they’re gonna believe that?”
“That’s what you said, anyway. Before we…”
“Right. Hungry or bored. I remember.” He held her eyes meaningfully. “Don’ fancy killin’ you now, an’ while they might accept it, I’m bettin’ you anythin’ they’ll bring Peaches along, jus’ to play it safe, an’ all…an’ he’ll know right away.”
Buffy froze. “H-he will?”
“The nose always knows, sweet.”
“Oh God.”
Spike frowned and sighed. “Could make it a part of the agreement, I s’pose? If we get outta the room, he won’ be able to tell as quickly. He’ll still smell me all over you…an’ maybe that I made you all wet in the nether region.” He paused at that to smile crudely and waggle his brows. “We can say the Big Brute’s gotta stay away until we’re both outta the room.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I might have to punch him, though. Jus’ for kicks.”
Buffy smirked lightly and shrugged. “Do what you gotta.”
“Gotta.” He sighed. “Jus’ wish the tummy would stop with the rumblies.”
She paused at that. There was really little to say that would make his hunger go away. While she’d counted on cotton candy with Giles in ode to the Birthday-Ice-Show ritual, she’d eaten before leaving the house. Her companion had not had the luxury of option.
In the end, it didn’t take much to make her decision.
Buffy sighed and snuggled into his side almost subconsciously. They were coiled so comfortably against the wall that leaning into him seemed natural. The way he tightened his arm around her made her warm in the promise of security, and there was only one thing she could do to make her indecisiveness better for him right now. She could give him what he needed. She could do that for him tonight.
A few seconds passed, then she raised her wrist to his mouth and pressed her warm skin against his cold lips. The reaction she received was as much startled as it was moved.
“What the bloody hell are you doin’?”
“Go ahead.”
“Bite you?”
“Drink from me.”
“No bloody way.”
“Didn’t stop you while we were…” Buffy’s cheeks flushed with heat, and she was suddenly aware that she was still incredibly naked. “Didn’t stop you when—”
“That was different. That was a lo-a sex bite. I’m not gonna feed off you.” He grimaced and shuddered. “Not a bloody parasite.”
“Oh come on, Spike. Don’t wimp out on me now. Drink.” Before he could say it, she elbowed him sharply. “And no, I don’t have a death wish. This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. Just do it before I change my mind.”
There would never again be such an offer, and the selflessness of it humbled him. Slowly, he took her hand in his, and licked at her inner wrist.
“Ohhh…”
Spike eyed her with a wry grin and waggled his brows again. “This turnin’ you on, pet?”
It was and he knew it, but she wasn’t about to admit anything.
The bite came with a moan of surrender. Blood pumped from her ivory skin, rolling into his mouth, and she swelled with completion. She’d given him what he needed, and it was enough. He drank her for long seconds, purring contentedly; the sensation alone was worth any second thoughts.
A few seconds later, he pulled away with a gasp, his tongue immediately tending to the small wound. He tucked her into his side when he returned to himself, his embrace firm and supportive, and he leaned his head against hers. The gesture was simple but loving. In the small span of their confused relationship, even and especially with what had happened between them tonight, she never expected to experience this. This simple bliss.
“You din’t have to do that, pet.”
“I know.”
“So why did you?”
She shrugged, attempting and failing to appear blasé. “I wanted to. This is…this might be all we have.”
It was a painful truth with even uglier reasoning, but the truth nonetheless.
“Thank you,” he murmured softly.
“There’s only so much until morning.” She sighed, leaning into him as her eyes fell shut. “Just…let’s have this. Have this and…”
“An’ what?”
Buffy buried her head in the crook of his shoulder. “And we wait."
TBC
|
