Touching Moonlight
by Slinkyspychokit

Rating: NC-17 for Smut, smut, a tiny bit of non-plot, and oh, yeah, more smut!
Contains: Nudity, some semi-harsh language, and, you guessed it, smut! (And no little amount of voyeurism.)
WARNING: Buffy is sixteen in this. Depending on your views of what constitutes 'underage', you may or may not wish to continue. I'm just covering my bases here and going with a general warning. Also, because of her age, there is nothing too graphic.
Disclaimer: My lawyers tell me I can't claim any credit here, since I didn't actually create the characters or anything. That honor belongs to Joss and his gi-normous brain.

Thank you to a very tired Athenewolfe for the not-quite-rushed quick beta and for all her helpful hints and suggestions. Smooches, Sweetie!

Author's Note at bottom.

*~*~*~*~*

It was getting late and Buffy decided to take one final sweep of Crest View Memorial Gardens to ensure she hadn't missed any of the fanged baddies it was her mission to take down. Preferably before they had a chance to sink fang into the unsuspecting populace, the Slayer thought with a grimace. A moan drifted to her on the gentle spring breeze and she stopped moving. In an effort to discover the source of that moan, she closed her eyes and tilted her head this way and that to determine the direction from which the small sound had originated.

There. The Slayer opened her eyes and listened intently. A moment later, she was rewarded as another moan reached her sensitive ears. Silently, Buffy crept along the shadowed ground. The moans grew louder as she approached a row of neatly trimmed hedges.

Oh god.

A flush spread like fire across her face and neck as she got an eyeful; her breath hitched in her chest and her heart began a wild tattoo within her breast. It was the captain of the cheerleading squad and Buffy's partner in Science lab, Cordelia Chase. And was that...?

"...mmm, Doyle"

Yep, that's who Buffy thought lay with his head nestled securely between the young woman's thighs.

Try as she might, Buffy was trapped; unable to turn away from the sight not meant for her eyes.

Doyle moved up Cordelia's thighs and plunged into her welcoming body. Cold hands suddenly clasped onto the Slayer's trembling shoulders. The blonde started in surprise and anger at having been caught unawares while witnessing something so private. And by him, no less! Being caught only served to heighten the warring emotions of lust and embarrassment already firing through her young body.

The combined scents of liquor, cigarettes, old leather and cologne; the indefinable something that was just him, along with the tickle of leather lightly slapping against her calf, brought a tiny gasp to Buffy's lips. The gasp became a soft, breathless moan as his hands gently caressed her shoulders for a moment before gliding sensually down her arms. A quite rumble vibrated from deep within his chest where it pressed against her back and she shivered, goose bumps rising along her delicate skin. Images, carnally wicked, flickered across her mind's eye; the couple before them replaced with a vision of herself and the achingly beautiful creature who touched her on so many different levels.

It became too much, these light caresses and teasing touches. Arousal unlike anything her virginal heart and body had ever felt had her trembling in his arms and slamming her eyes shut with a need she could not put into words. Then his voice sounded in her ear; low and husky as he drew out a command, "No. Don't close your eyes."

Buffy's head rolled back against his shoulder and a mewl escaped her lips as she surrendered. His hands, cold as the grave, once more glided from her shoulders to her wrists, blazing a fiery path over the suddenly hypersensitive flesh. His hands continued to caress, dipping beneath the hem of her blouse and dancing over taut, quivering muscles. Everywhere he touched her skin felt too large; swollen and eager for more, for everything, anything he would have of her.

Buffy tried to turn her head, wanting to see the crystalline eyes of the man behind her. He stopped her with a firm hand to her chin. "Don't." Instead, he nuzzled his lips against the smooth, fragrant column of her throat. "Watch them. See how he touches her as though she is his entire universe. The way her body responds. The way they hunger for each other. Beautiful," the last came out with breathless reverence.

Chilled lips returned to her throat and Buffy arched her neck to grant him better access. Her knees weakened and threatened to give way. As if he was able to read her mind, a solid forearm banded across her waist and held her tightly against him. His other hand moved lightly over the taut muscles of her abdomen, eliciting quiet mewls of newly discovered desire. Without conscious thought, her body moved restlessly against him, searching for a release from the erotic onslaught.

All of her senses seemed to come alive at once. The scent of all that was Spike. The taste of the night air on her tongue as she gulped in much needed breaths. The sound of his voice; slow, deep and filled with dark promise. The vision of flesh on flesh as the lovers continued to writhe and moan in the moonlight. The feel of his talented fingers as they dipped beneath the waistband of her jeans.

A slight flick of those fingers and the rasp of metal teeth alerted her that he'd managed to unfasten her jeans. Buffy was past caring. All that mattered was the burning need for him to touch her. It was torture; the slow, erotic glide of his fingers as they found her soaked and swollen need. A moan, muffled by the teeth she buried into her bottom lip, painted the air as he circled the distended bundle of nerves nestled within soft skin and springy curls.

**********

Spike knew he was lost. He'd known it from the very first moment he laid eyes upon the petite blonde, all decked out in some poor excuse for a skirt and the scrap of cloth some designer dared to call a top. Then she had begun to bounce and shimmy, swaying seductively in time with the band hired to play the club that night, and he was lost all over again. She was wild and carefree; an untamed innocent joyously reveling in her own youthful exuberance without a thought to the dozens of spotty-faced gits practically tripping over themselves for a chance to be noticed.

Now, months of brief not-quite-accidental encounters, of teasing touches and impromptu sparring sessions amongst the granite monuments, family crypts and weathered headstones found them here. They were voyeurs. She with her wide-eyed innocence flushing her skin as she whimpered, shook and prayed that their tryst remained undiscovered by those they watched. He, William the Bloody, panting for unneeded air as he watched her emotions flicker across her expressive face; a man drowning in all that was her as he listened to her sweet cries painting the air that was already heavy with the intoxicating scent of her arousal. He was hard enough to pound metal spikes through concrete, getting harder every second he gloried in the desire drenching his fingers.

Slowly, lightly so as not to frighten her, he slid one long finger along her soaked and swollen need. She jolted at the new sensation and ground her tiny, delectable little ass against him, and it was all he could do not to strip her bare and drag her to the dewy grass at their feet.

**********

Buffy felt something deep within her building higher and higher with every swipe of his fingers across her moist, quivering flesh. Her entire focus had narrowed to that one point where he continued to caress her. Low murmurings in her ear, erotic word pictures painted in a voice that sounded pained to her inexperienced ears.

Then something snapped and it felt as though the world suddenly exploded into stars and too-bright colors. At the same time, she found her mouth covered by his, his lips and teeth seeming to devour her one kiss at a time. She was undone and tears trickled slowly from the corners of her eyes. Spike pulled back from her and looked into her dazed eyes with a worried frown that did nothing to detract from the heart-stopping beauty she had come to dream of when she allowed herself to sleep.

As though he sensed the reason behind her tears, he smiled gently and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as he helped her right her clothing. "Should get you home kitten," he whispered.

She nodded and allowed him to lead her away from the graveyard and towards the home she shared with her mother and younger sister. At the base of the tree outside her window, they shared a brief kiss and whispered goodnight.

It wasn't until she began to drift into slumber that an overwhelming panic hit her.

How the hell will I ever be able to face Cordy after tonight? Buffy groaned and threw the blankets over her head, silently wondering if she would be lucky enough to have a surprise apocalypse before she came face to face with the brunette in question. Then, as her tired brain processed the word ’lucky’ and all its connotations, the Slayer who was still very much a sixteen year old girl whimpered and burrowed deeper beneath her blanket.

Maybe the ground could just open up and swallow me?

***********

Author's Notes: A bit light on the porntastic front, I know. In the end, I just wasn't comfortable with it due to Buffy's age.

Fin


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