Little Bitty Puzzle PiecesBy PJzallday
Respite
With his forehead pressed to her chest, Spike was comforted by her familiar scent and the feel of her. Months of memories and mystery had finally ended: he'd found her.
Buffy was still stunned by Spike's very existence. Where he'd had days to prepare for her arrival, she'd had scarcely a couple of hours between receiving the news and finding herself alone with him. She could hardly think straight; it was all so overwhelming. Spike was there… with her. Spike, the vampire who died saving the world six and a half months earlier- How many days? How many days? She cursed herself for not knowing. Spike had known. Without hesitation, he knew precisely how long she'd been gone when she came back from the dead. But he wasn't just back from the dead — or the undead; Spike was actually alive!
Holding him, his torso nestled between her thighs, sensing the slight hitch of his breath as he wept against her chest, Buffy needed to be closer to him. Slowly, she slid off the edge of the bed, skimming the insides of her knees down Spike's sides until her shins rested on the floor.
As she did so, Spike was startled. Gasping and pulling away, he tumbled back with his legs splayed.
"Spike?"
Momentarily embarrassed by what he felt was a girlish reaction on his part, Spike berated himself. Drawing in a knee, he hugged it to his chest with a bent elbow then forced a smile as he met her eyes.
In the glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the window, her eyes sparkled. How many times had he seen those eyes in his dreams? The eyes which had told him that she believed in him, that she didn't want him to leave, that he was a champion. Eyes which had told him what he'd waited so long to hear: that she loved him. Did she still?
"Buffy…"
He seemed to look through her, deep into her mind, her soul. Did he see her trepidation? Did he see her desire? Her heart skipped and her breath caught with it in her chest. Could he still sense her arousal? Did he still want her?
As tears began to well in her eyes, Spike apprehensively raised a hand to cup her cheek. When Buffy pressed into the warmth of his otherwise familiar palm, a droplet broke free, trickling down her rose-blushed flesh until Spike caught it with his thumb. Without a thought, he brought the thumb to his mouth and, pushing the pad of it between his teeth, he sucked away the salty residue. Closing his eyes, he savoured the taste of her on his tongue and smiled.
The sight of him brightening warmed Buffy's heart. Knowing she'd had some part in putting the smile on his face, further ignited her desire for him. She crept cautiously forward then leaned into him. Resting a hand on his shoulder for balance, she pressed her lips first to one upturned corner of his mouth then to the other. Spike relaxed his leg and sighed an almost soundless warm breath against her cheek. Easing back to meet him virtually nose to nose, she wantonly gazed into his eyes. Holding that look, she threaded her fingers through his hair and impulsively swept her tongue across her lower lip. When she began to stroke the nape of his neck with her thumb, Spike shuddered and grasped her hips. With his mouth already slightly open in a gasp, Buffy returned her lips to his.
When her curious tongue slipped inside the long-uncharted cavern of his mouth, he slid his hands down to firmly cup the curve of her ass. How different it was to feel her now. Different from months earlier, because she was opening herself to him, touching him in ways that made her want of him clear. Different from years earlier, because she was tentative, strong yet tender, apparently concerned with more than just her own desire. She wasn't taking from him; she was sharing. As she probed his mouth, he relaxed and let her — revelling in her attention; marvelling at the new sensations and reactions of his own body. Though her touch no longer scorched him as once it did his undead form, he still melted under her ministrations.
Buffy thrilled at the vigour of Spike's hold and the heat of his broad hands, familiar yet new at the same time. As he pulled her onto his lap, she gasped. Instinctively wrapping her legs at his waist and fixing on his awed azure eyes, she settled onto the unfamiliar burning of the firm swell of his trousers and together they groaned keenly.
Skimming a strong hand up her delicate form, losing it beneath her cascading golden locks, Spike enveloped the base of her head pulling her mouth his own needy lips. "Oh Buffy, I-" Don't say it. So afraid to be hurt again, he just couldn't tell her what was in his heart, what had been a part of him longer than his own soul.
Buffy wanted him. She had to reacquaint herself with the body she'd once known so well. Kneeling again to allow herself more freedom, Buffy slid a hand beneath the collar of Spike's shirt, pulling the fabric aside to bare the skin of his shoulder. As she began to pepper kisses and nips down his neck and across his still pale flesh, Buffy ran the other hand along the shirt's placket, skilfully unfastening the buttons, leaving Spike almost completely oblivious to the action until she pulled back further to visually inspect the terrain her hands now covered. With fingers splayed at his belt-line and palms pressed against the tight ripples of his abdomen, Buffy slowly drew her hands up his torso. Twisting her wrists to bring her fingers upward to wrap over his firm pectorals, she hummed her appreciation of his body momentarily before continuing her journey up and over his shoulders, sliding his shirt off as she moved.
Whether intentionally or merely out of necessity, she leaned further into him as she sent his shirt cascading from his shoulders. The feel of the fabric against his back coupled with the tickle of her fuzzy sweater on his nose made him giggle, and that burst of his hot breath against Buffy's breast sent sharp pleasured waves through her. She clutched his head reactively, holding him again to her chest.
The feel of her body: soft, round. The oddly cool touch of her hands against his flesh… He wanted her — believed she wanted him — but somehow he missed the sensation he used to have when he knew by the taste of the air around her that she was drenched in her arousal for him. So much more was up to chance now. Was he prepared to risk rejection on the possibility of pleasure? When she returned her mouth to his neck and her hands to his body, all doubt and fear dissipated — replaced with insatiable lust. Strong hands dove under the knit of her sweater to find the silky fabric of her camisole and velvet softness of her skin.
"Uh… Spike," she moaned in a hungry whisper.
Encouraged, he peeled her garments up her body, pausing to allow her to wriggle her arms free of the sleeves, before cupping her head in his hands to protect her precious face as he drew them up over her head. As he tossed aside the sweater and camisole, Buffy's hair tumbled in waves over her shoulders except for the stray tendril that she tried in vain to shake from her face. Brushing his ring finger across her forehead, Spike whisked the uncooperative lock to the side and tucked it tenderly behind her ear. Bringing his hands forward from her ear, he skimmed along her jaw with his index finger to where it came to rest under her chin. "So beautiful," he managed.
Though the chill was gone, to Buffy, Spike's touch was still electric. That the simple sensation of a single finger across her face could raise such desire, to her was remarkable. Exciting. Desperately, she took his mouth then, grabbing his neck, Buffy pushed up from her knees, coaxing him to the bed.
Reading the message, he supported her back, laying her on the mattress. As he inched away from her, he slyly unfastened her jeans then, sliding his hands down her legs inside the denim, he removed them. Her body, golden and glistening, was displayed for him. Arching her back, she whimpered her need, a need he was more than happy to attend. Bracing himself on one elbow, Spike traced the gentle swells of her breasts with his free hand. Skimming his fingers up the underside of one breast to cup it, he repeatedly squeezed her nipple between his fingers as he kneaded her flesh. Not wanting to be neglectful, he lavished the other breast with wanton kisses before enveloping her pebbled nipple with his steamy moist mouth.
"Oh god…" Buffy groaned. He was amazing — still so skilled yet now the heat of his mouth… "Spike!" She couldn't stay still; needed to be closer to him; wanted to explore his body as he did hers. When he broke free of her breast, she retook his mouth, exploring it with her tongue as she clutched his back, sinking the pads of her fingers into his sinewy muscles. Intertwining her legs with his, she pressed her pelvis to his groin. The feel of the fire burning through his trousers accelerated the flow of her arousal and intensified the pulsating ache between her own legs.
The pressure building in him as she rubbed herself, hot and wet against his crotch, was becoming more than he could bear. In physical agony, drowning in ecstasy and disbelief, he threw back his head and moaned.
Spurred on by his chorus, Buffy dragged her fingers down his torso, inadvertently tickling his side as she felt her way to his belt. He jerked; she grinned with amusement. Then after fumbling somewhat with the buckle, she turned her eyes to assess the device. Once the hook was released and the belt undone, she popped open the button then eased down the zipper. "Uh," she grunted appreciatively when his hard flesh snapped through the opening of the dark fabric. Slipping her hand into his pants, she took a gentle hold of his testicles, rolling them like Chinese meditation balls in her hand. But this meditation was far from relaxing for her and instead of soothing chimes, Buffy heard dulcet moans from deep in Spike's throat.
It was dizzying, Buffy touching him the way she was. Spike tried to reciprocate in some way but all he could manage was to rub an encouraging hand on her hip and whimper helplessly. When she slowed the rolling and slid her hand up to grip his shaft, Spike grasped her ass and pulled her to him. He wanted her so desperately — needed her.
Guiding him between her legs, Buffy gasped at the heat as he rubbed against her outer folds.
Burying his head in her hair, kissing and caressing her throat with his tongue, Spike turned Buffy onto her back. After raising his head for breath and propping himself up on his palms, he waited for her to meet his eyes.
Wide-eyed and sucking air heavily through clenched teeth, Buffy could think of little more than the feeling of Spike above her, the searing warmth of him pressing against the apex of her thighs and the exciting sting in her chest as he looked deeply into her eyes. "Spike… please," she begged, widening her legs to encourage him inside her.
Tears welling in his eyes, he pushed into her moist core.
With each inch, she felt his heat fill her with an intensity that had her gasping and giggling with pleasure.
Holding his position, deep inside her, his body quivered. He couldn't believe that after all this time she was there with him, surrounding him.
"Spike, I…"
He could see it in her eyes; she didn't have to utter the words. He wanted to believe — believe that she loved him — but he couldn't wait for her to say it. The feel of her around him was too strong and he feared, were she to actually tell him at that moment that she loved him, he'd be reduced again to a weepy nancy-boy.
When he started to move, slowly at first, she joined him, raising her hips to meet his every thrust. The pace quickened. Their breathing became heavier. Squeezing their eyes closed, they strained to stay focussed before opening them again to gaze with passionate wonder into each other.
Feeling the heat, the swell, the ripple of their connection, climax was immanent and with one last groan, Spike collapsed onto Buffy, breathing hard against the bedding beside her head. She held him close to her with both arms and legs, brushing her head like a kitten's against his cheek.
After slowly releasing a deep cleansing breath, he whispered, "I love you."