by Spikesdeb
Chapter 2
“Mmmm,
do that again…it feels soooooo good.”
“Like
this, sweetheart?”
Spike took
the sharply indrawn breath and racing pulse as agreement. He continued gliding the ice cube on his wife’s body,
circling first one nipple then the other, until both were hard and aching.
Buffy moaned, licking her lips as her eyes fluttered open.
Her cheeks were flushed, desire suffusing her skin with a rosy bloom.
She raised herself slightly, resting back on her elbows in order to watch
the bleached blond hair of her lover as he moved further down her body.
His eyes were fixed on hers, wide open and sapphire blue, glinting in the
light of the flickering candles spread throughout the sumptuous room.
The rasping cicadas echoed outside, the warm breeze from the sea moving
the sheer drapes at the balcony window, and moonlight bathed the naked lovers on
the bed in silver. It couldn’t be
more romantic.
Buffy
chuckled. Spike stilled the advance
of the melting cube, making her regret her mirth.
“Too
ticklish? Perhaps I’d better
stop…pity…” his full bottom lip formed a delicious pout.
“Nooo -
don’t stop…don’t stop!! Sorry,
baby. I’m just thinking…this
could be a scene from one of those romance books, you know with Tarquin and
Felicity and the whole surrendering her sweet cherry thing.
‘Oh Tarquin…or Ow Tarquin...’she snorted. “ Pffft - I think the champers is getting to me…”
Spike
couldn’t help but laugh along with her but soon found his desire taking
control again as the chuckling made her breasts jiggle about enticingly.
“Rather partial to sweet cherries myself. Oh lookee - there’s two
little beauties right here.” He couldn’t resist the lure of her taut nipples and sucked
one into his mouth, releasing it with a resounding ‘smack’.
He reached across her to the bowl of ice on the bedside cabinet,
selecting a chunk that dripped icy water over her warm flesh as he resumed his
sweet torture to the soft golden skin of her belly, her thighs.
Buffy sank
back on the bed, her arms above her head as she arched in pleasure.
She wasn’t laughing now, what with the panting and the moaning…
The ice
was amazing on her skin, so like the cool touch of her vampire it made her
senses swim. When he drew it down
the centre of her belly to stop at her mound, then followed the wet trail with
his cool lips, she almost exploded. One
touch – one gentle brush of fingers or tongue over her clit and she’d orgasm
so hard she doubted the bed would take the strain.
His nose nudged against her thigh, a request for her to let him in and
her legs spread wider of their own volition, her entire body screaming for
completion. Buffy opened an eye
when she heard the crunch of ice being crushed between sharp teeth, then bit her
lip when a chilly breath blew across her clit.
One sweep of his icy tongue rasping her swollen pussy did the trick and
she screamed his name – this time it was ‘SPIIIKE!’ – while
clamping her thighs together to hold him fast against her.
She was
still in the stratosphere as he slid up her body, nipping at her breasts and
neck as he did so. He settled
between her legs, grinding against her, his mouth moving to cover her parted
lips with his. They devoured each
other, his tongue, still cold from the ice, wrapped around hers as he rocked
against her, his cock sliding across the slickness of her pussy wet with the
juices that had flooded out, every movement making him teeter on the brink of
coming. Buffy’s whimpers were
testament to the sensitivity of her swollen clit and she sucked at his tongue
avidly, her teeth grazing where it swirled in her mouth.
Spike couldn’t hold back any longer and reached beneath her butt to
grip her cheeks, raising her so that he could slide inside her depths.
She keened against his mouth as he filled her, not giving her time to
adjust to his width but immediately thrusting, his hands controlling her hips to
the pace he needed. He released her mouth with a last nip at her lips, wanting to
watch her as he came in her.
Seeing her
rapt beneath him made him wonder anew at the fates that had brought Buffy into
his life. God knows, he’d done
terrible things in his long existence and he’d tried to make amends since
then, never dreaming he’d find bliss.
He wasn’t going to waste this gift.
His hands
caressed her body, the swell of her hips and indent of her waist, the gentle
roundness of her breasts, the glory of her golden hair; he slowed his thrusts,
overcome with love for her. Buffy
noticed the change in pace immediately, fluttering open her lashes to find deep
blue eyes fixed on her. “Something
wrong?” she whispered, stroking his shoulders.
“God no
- nothing wrong. Just realised how
much I love you – how I want you all the time.”
Her smile
dazzled him as she reached up to cradle the back of his head as he stilled above
her, pulling his lips back where they belonged, right on hers.
She felt William smile against her mouth.
As he began to move again, each thrust hitting the sweet spot inside her,
she lifted her hips to meet him. His
movements became more frenetic, his kiss deeper, his hands grasping her hair and
the small of her back. Buffy felt
the familiar sensation of throbbing pleasure start to build in the pit of her
stomach and wrapped her legs around him, tilting her hips to get the perfect
angle so that he hit her clit with every thrust.
The new position obviously did it for him too as he groaned into her
mouth. Needing more breath, she
tore her lips from him, gasping as the ripples of pleasure started to flood her
body. At the crescendo of her
orgasm, she screamed his name – this time, this sweet lovemaking, it was ‘WILLIAM!!’
– he gave one final deep thrust, filling her with his cool seed.
A maid
walking past the room for the second time in the last hour blushed at the racket
coming from inside. And secretly
wished she were the lucky girl in the middle of Spike and William, whoever they
were.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Harris was
starting to get really nervous. Noon
passed and W still hadn’t shown up to work.
There hadn’t even been a message from her, which was unheard of.
She did occasionally have meetings outside the office, but they were
always arranged through reception. Buffy
Summers – Blond now he supposed – used to be in charge of arranging her
diary, but in her absence a delicious brunette named Cordelia had stepped up to
the plate. So far he hadn’t
spoken to her other than a quick “hello” but had managed to get an eyeful of
her lush and curvy form. This maybe crisis would give him the chance to get to know
her better. The thought of the
dazzling Anyanka Jenkinskovitch atomising him with her death-ray stare
disappeared as he made the decision to head to the Magic Box part of HQ.
He felt
almost cheerful as he left W’s office, but his brow soon creased in a frown as
he recalled the reason he was heading to reception. Yeah, business first, pleasure later… possibly.
The sight
that greeted him almost made him forget what he’d gone for.
All he could see was a roundly pert butt, nicely filling tight black
spandex, as Cordelia was bent over looking through a drawer at the back of the
counter. He let out a slow
wolf-whistle.
“Well,
well…mmm hmm…that’s what I call a welcome.”
Cordelia
jumped at the noise, casting a look back over her shoulder that caused her long
dark hair to swing in front of her face. She
shook her head to clear her view. ‘Mmmm,
check out the salty goodness.’ From
the eye patch, she gathered this was the famed Xander Harris, second only to the
legendary Spike Blond in the Catch a Girl, Kiss a Girl stakes.
Nice look; the patch was good on him.
He was bulky but not overly so, nice smile, even teeth.
All in all, maybe she’d give him a whirl.
Not just yet though, got to make him beg a bit first.
Turning on
the charm, Cordelia stood upright, slamming the drawer shut with her hip and
hugging the file she’d taken out close to her well-endowed chest.
She shook out her hair again, knowing that some men just loved the
flowing locks. “Can I help you,
Mr…”?
“Agent.
Agent Harris, Xander Harris.”
“Well,
Agent Agent Harris Xander Harris, what can I do for you?”
God.
What a question. What couldn’t this goddess do for him? He realised his mouth was gaping like a village idiot, so he
regained his cool by strolling up to the counter and leaning on it nonchalantly
as Cordelia placed the folder to her left and sat behind the computer, typing as
she looked at the open file. She
ignored him. There he was
displaying his best ‘I’m a witty, urbane master of espionage – shagmeister
extraordinaire’ look and the damn woman was ignoring him!
He cleared
his throat. No reaction.
Again. Not a blink.
Didn’t
she know who he was? He was Xander
Harris…Agent 0013. He was a mere
100 points behind Spike Blond in his overall spy stats.
He’d had women all over the world fall at his feet begging him to take
them. And yet…this was a new
approach and he found himself intrigued. So he persevered.
“Cordelia…isn’t
it?”
“It
might be. Yeah, or…I prefer Cordy.”
“Cordy
it is. Well, Cordy…I need to know
if W had an appointments this morning. You
got any records?”
Cordy
smiled. She liked the way he rolled
her name off his tongue. Very
tasty. Maybe this temporary
assignment would be worth making permanent.
“I’ll check. I haven’t
made any for her, but she sometimes adds stuff from home…”
The
dazzling smile accompanying the last statement almost floored the spy.
Wow.
The sound
of his cell phone, playing Midnight in Moscow, broke the spell.
Damn. He’d assigned that
tune to the Russian babe. Apologising, he flipped the phone and turned away to talk.
“Yes!”
he hissed.
“Darlink…vat
are you doing at zis moment? I find
myself all alone and naked…and so hungry for your delicious Shashlyk.
Ve can have vodka and nibbles…”
“Oooh…
erm - not now, Anyanka. There’s a
situation here I’ve got to resolve.” Duty
and libido did battle. Duty won,
temporarily. “I’ll be half an
hour.”
He clicked
the cell shut and turned back to the delicious brunette. “Anything?”
“No, the
diary’s blank. She does sometimes
go to the beauty salon for a facial - not usually on a Tuesday though….”
Xander
pondered the options. W wasn’t in
her office, she should be, which was bad. There
was no obvious explanation, which was strange.
She could be lying in a pool of blood in her apartment, which was…. the
last thought gripped him. He’d go
and check out W’s place, it was on his way to Anyanka’s anyway.
With a rueful smile, he took his leave of the delectable brunette,
grabbing her hand and pressing a brief kiss into the palm.
“Later,” he murmured, delighting in the spark of interest he saw in
her eyes. As he turned on his heel
and strode out the door, knowing that her eyes followed him, he silently thanked
Spike Blond for the lessons in cool he’d unknowingly imparted over the years.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“The
beach, pet? Fancy me with a tan, do
you? The all over crispy big pile
of dust type?”
“Not in
broad daylight, idiot! As if!!!
I meant at night, with the waves crashing on the beach, moonlight on the
surf, a picnic…soft music…skinny dipping…”
“That’s
my bold hussy,” he grinned. “Roll
on sunset!”
Spike and
Buffy Blond were resting after several hours strenuous ‘siesta’, the drapes
tight closed against Mr Sunshine in deference to Spike’s skin condition.
Only three days left of their honeymoon then back to reality.
Spike, despite the irresistible delights of afternoons in bed with his
wife, was eager to get back to the mayhem and the mad slaughter.
It was part of his nature and no amount of denial would hide that.
It was true that the slaughter nowadays was limited to ‘evildoers’,
but still – death and destruction was a big part of his raison d’être.
Buffy had
been thinking about her return too. Now
she’d been on the frontline, the desk job at the Magic Box just wasn’t going
to cut it. She’d ask W for a
permanent assignment, apply for accreditation as a 00 agent. Nothing less would do. She
knew William would understand; they were two sides of a coin, both thrilling
from the chase and the kill. And
she’d found that she was surprisingly good at it.
No, Buffy Summerpenny, keeper of the diary, was long gone.
Decision made, she turned into her husband’s embrace, nuzzling his
shoulder as she drifted off into a satiated slumber.
The shrill
ring of the telephone had them both leaping up, alert to danger, and
automatically adopting a defensive stance.
By the fifth ring, they’d identified the threat as a pale grey
telephone and relaxed somewhat, embarrassed grins on their faces.
Buffy picked up the receiver, delighting in hearing herself say “This
is Buffy Blond.”
Spike
chuckled, as thrilled as his wife at hearing her words.
He settled himself back on the pillows, closing his eyes as he listened
in to her conversation. His
enhanced hearing picked up the other speaker as well as her side of the
conversation...G if he wasn’t mistaken, and quite animated too.
He sat up, his interest piqued. Buffy
was listening half-heartedly to G’s chatter, playing with the cord of the
receiver as she ogled her pale lover, his lips quirked in a grin that clearly
said ‘get rid of him, I’m waiting’.
He snaked
his cool fingers up her arm and swept the sheet of golden hair away from her
neck so that he could place burning kisses beneath her ear.
Buffy moaned -- loudly.
“Sorry,
Buffy – what was that? I think
there’s a problem on the line…”
“Oh!
Oooooh! What? No…sorry, G…erm, must be the full moon or something…
playing havoc with connections. Please
tell me you didn’t call to fill me in on the latest assignments - Cordelia
Chase is more than capable of dealing with any queries you may have.
So…what’s the sitch?”
“Sitch?
I don’t…oh, situation…how very droll.
Well, yes…I suppose I am…well, not entirely…ahem, the thing
is…”
Spike
snatched the receiver from Buffy’s hand, her squeak of indignation quelled as
he placed his hand on her face and pushed her backwards onto the bed.
“G. -
Blond here. You do know we’re on
honeymoon, don’t you? And you
also know that we’ve put this off once already?
Better be a good reason for this call, old man, or you will be
less a functioning lung when I get back.”
“Blond.
Hahaha…yes…good man. I
understand entirely. The thing
is…have you had a good break? The
cuisine there is out of this world – have you tried the lobster yet?
And what about the ‘Blue Bar’-- down by the docks? One time… it
must have been the late seventies, I’ll never forget--”
Blond’s
snarl snapped the gadget-man back on track.
“Ahem. Oh right… well
then… The thing is…we need you
back at HQ a.s.a.p. old chap. W’s missing.
And there’s a scroll.”
“A
WHAT?” Spike’s gruff voice cut
through to Buffy’s lazy fantasies as she languidly ran a pedicured foot along
the perfection of his back, his butt, as he sat on the edge of the bed. She sat up, alarm on her face.
Buffy
gestured to Spike to give her the receiver, but he shook his head transferring
it to his other hand out of her reach. “What
did it say?”
“Just
that Mr Kiss Kiss Gang Bang would have his revenge, that the Queen of his
enemies would be the Queen of his Heart and all mortals would cower before
him.”
A beat.
A shared look.
“We’re
on our way.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
HQ was in
turmoil. All the operatives were
indebted to W, either personally or professionally, and the news of her
disappearance hit them hard. Harris
had gone to her apartment but she was out.
He’d rationalised her absence as being a woman thing, maybe another
attack of shoe shopping or such, and had moved on to Anyanka’s home where he
spent an afternoon and night indulging his favourite fantasy of ‘Xander the
hussar meets the Princess Anyanka’. In
the morning, he’d woken up in the rabbit-fur shrouded bed, choking on the
coverlet, and sweltering in the remains of a fancy uniform.
After basking in the afterglow, thoughts of W resurfaced and he took his
leave of Her Highness, hurriedly dressing and returning to W’s home.
It was only 6.00 am. Too
early for work. If she didn’t
answer, he’d be seriously worried.
Harris
pounded on the door to W’s apartment, waking neighbours who screamed abuse at
him, but got no response from inside. Making
a decision, he dropped his shoulder and charged the door.
The crash of his shoulder meeting the door was drowned out by his howl of
pain. “Fuck!” he screamed.
A shocked face peeked from the next door.
He smiled apologetically at the lady in nightclothes and a hairnet and
she immediately ducked back inside.
He charged
the door again, and this time it gave, sending Xander sprawling onto the hall
floor. “W!” he bellowed,
darting through the hallway and into the bedrooms.
Each door he opened revealed an empty room. Nobody home. Harris
didn’t know what to do. He almost missed the parchment on the table as he ran
out the door.
As soon as
he got back to HQ he summoned senior staff to an emergency meeting.
G was more than disturbed by W’s absence.
It was personal to him in ways that nobody could imagine.
In the maelstrom of the day, Harris forgot G’s violent reaction to the
news of W’s kidnapping. No doubt
the sight of the trashed briefing room would focus his mind again when things
settled down.
The
embossed scroll read: “Servants of the Queen, know that we have your
Sovereign. At the serendipitous
moment, she will be mated to our magnificent Lord and Master Weisswurst, thus
furnishing Him with the means to rule the Mortal World and to subdue human will
to His own. Cower in submission,
and we may find a use for you when the Day of Blood and Torment dawns.”
“In the
words of the Master’s favourite singer, He asks us to relate this to you as a
summary of His feelings – “You’re my World, my hopes and dreams;
without you girl, it don’t mean a thing.”
Such are the sentiments of the Mighty Weisswurst as He beholds His Queen,
the Queen of His Heart. You will
see her again: As you die.
It is fitting punishment for depriving our Lord of the gift of love; it
will be His revenge. Your Queen
stole the means by which the Master could quench the conflagration of His
passions. She herself will now
fulfil that which He lacks.”
Harris
finished reading the missive to a stunned silence.
The mentally challenged Mr Kiss Kiss Gang Bang had decided that W, as
head of the rescue team, was the ‘Queen’ for whom the spies fought.
Were the situation not so dire, it would be hilarious.
What a halfwit! His revenge
for the thwarting of his doomed attempt at child sacrifice was to bind himself
to W, using her as the focus of his plan instead of the infant.
But instead of murdering her he intended to mate her, impose his warty,
foul-smelling body on her.
There was
nothing to do now but wait for Spike and Buffy Blond to come and save the day.
G made the call.
Cut to:
a whirlwind of preparation as bags are packed, hotel toiletries snagged
into waiting suitcases. A lingering
kiss between the two Blonds, a frenzied final check of the cupboards.
A knock
on the door. “Mr and Mrs Blond?
Your car is here. Are you decent?”
A smirk
from a nearly naked spy as he bundles a completely nude Buffy into the wardrobe.
A whispered retort – “Hardly.”
Doo – doo- doooooo; doo- doo – dooooooooo, doo-to-doooooo