* * * * * Chapter 26: Sunset * * * * *



Buffy paces, wondering if she can wear a track in the carpet in one afternoon. For the dozenth time, she goes to the window to check on the sun. More to the point, she checks to see if it is getting any closer to the horizon.

"Stupid sun. Go DOWN, already!" Buffy flings the curtain back down and takes another lap around the room. She knows she could go to Spike now, before sunset, but she won’t. She told him sunset and that’s when she’s coming back . Not earlier. Call it Slayer pride. Only she’s about ready to throw that pride out the window and sprint to his crypt. She wants him in the worst way. Her skin is nearly humming in anticipation of his hands on it again. Buffy wonders if it will always be this way. She is already thinking about Spike in terms of forever, something she rarely allows herself to do. The short lifespan inherent in her calling keeps her tiptoeing around that word - forever. But somehow, she can see it with him. A small smile plays across her lips. Right now, though, she would settle for a freaking sunset. The smile disappears.

With an exasperated sigh, Buffy flings herself onto her bed, grabbing a magazine from the bedside table. She had tried killing the afternoon in her dorm room once she was done with her classes, but Willow had finally, politely, asked her to get the heck out. Her pacing and sighing were driving the redhead to distraction. Buffy chuckles as she remembers the words Willow finally blurted out: "Listen, Buffy, is it possible you could try to will the sun to set somewhere that is else? I’m trying to read!" Despite her tone, Buffy saw the smile in Willow’s eyes. A romantic at heart, Willow could understand the flush of new love, the way your body just itched, waiting for your next chance to see that special person. Willow could still not believe that person was Spike, but at least she understood how hard it is to wait.

Buffy tosses the magazine aside and leans her head back, eyes closed. Meditate, I could try to meditate, she thinks. I used to be good at that. Crossing her legs Indian style, Buffy sits up, back straight as a rail. She begins taking in deep breaths and exhaling them forcefully, cleansing her body. She tries to clear her mind, letting thoughts flow out of her like water. All her thoughts are of Spike and they don’t really want to go but she continues to try. Her heart, racing before, starts to slow. She tries to hear it, the gentle thump thump in her chest. Tuning her breathing to her heartbeat, she feels the beginning of the calm steal over her. However, she does not remove all distraction. In her mind’s eye, she sees Spike. Sleeping. Naked. His peace becomes her peace. No other thoughts interfere for a period of seconds that stretch into minutes. Buffy loses herself completely in her trance.

Then, the Spike in her vision wakes, stirring slowly. Her breath catches once. He stretches slowly, arms above his head, the muscles in his torso rippling. A sudden rush of warmth courses through her, filling her veins. He runs his hands through his platinum curls, ruffling them. Buffy’s heart begins to beat a little faster. One hand runs down his carved abs and rests there as he props himself up on his other arm. Buffy’s own hands begin to wander over her body, squeezing her breasts gently, feeling the skin tighten around her nipples. She gasps lightly, startled by how sensitive her skin is already. Finally, her vision of Spike opens his eyes, those blue blue eyes blaze straight into her, instantly shortening her breath and causing her heart to race. One of her hands runs up her neck as the other descends, sliding between her legs, pressing into the fabric of her jeans. She flinches, the rough seams of the jeans scoring her delicate flesh. The Spike of her mind gazes steadily at her, his body pure invitation. His mouth opens and that tongue, that tongue dances out and traces his bottom lip slowly. Finally, he speaks to her.

"This a private party, luv, or can I join in?" Buffy’s eyes fly open at the sound of Spike’s rich deep voice. The real Spike’s real voice. Her hands freeze in place on her body as her head jerks towards the sound.

Buffy swallows hard at the sight that greets her. His arms are stretched above his head, hands hooked into the top of her door frame. Spike is in all black, the buttons on his shirt open enough to reveal an expanse of alabaster skin above and hitched up enough to tempt her with his lower abs. His jeans are slung low on his hips, the dark fabric tracing the strong lines of his hips and legs. His sleek form is framed in the door, the dim light just enough to show his body to her, to highlight his blond hair, waves loose and messy. Dim light. Buffy’s eyes dart quickly to the window and then back to him.

"Got tired of waitin’, pet."

Buffy swallows hard, trying to pull herself together. She comes up with one word. "Waiting?"

Spike releases the door frame and takes one step into the room. "For you to come."

"Come?" As soon as she says it, she closes her eyes. He got her there.

"Yes, luv. Waiting for you to...come." He pauses, tracing his teeth with his pink tongue. "Said you’d come at sunset."

Buffy turns back to the window, fighting her need to look at him. It is plain to her that the sun set less than five minutes ago. She grins and turns back to him. A wide, mischievous smirk dances across his face, drawing his sharp lines into relief. "I’ve never been known for my patience, Slayer." He moves one step closer. She swears the air is thick in the room, slowing his movements, constricting her breathing. And is it suddenly very warm?

The room is filled with a dark orange light, the sun fading behind the trees. She pictures him bursting out of his crypt the second the sun dipped behind the trees, risking those last stray beams to reach her. It gives her a strange feeling of butterflies bouncing around inside her, ricocheting off her ribcage. No, wait, that’s her heart. Pounding. He wanted to be with her that badly.

Spike is caught in a shadow, his blond hair glowing in the fading light, but his form lost in the dark. Buffy wills him closer, but cannot find the coordination to move her body just yet. She can feel him watching her. His eyes sweep over her body, burning a trail over her skin. A light sheen of sweat rises up all over her.

Finally, mercifully, Spike moves in closer. As his face comes back into the light, Buffy’s world tilts a bit off axis. She has seen his passion over the last few days, seen his lust raging within him. But this, this longing that radiates from his eyes. She has not seen this before. His voice is husky, deeper than normal when he speaks again. "Missed you, luv."

Buffy bites into her lower lip, locking on. "Bet I missed you more." Her voice is playful, but there is an undercurrent there that Spike can pick up. She did actually miss him. It wasn’t a one-night...okay, like a three-night stand. The love she professed is still issuing from her in waves. Spike shakes his head slightly, still having a hard time registering the recent events.

"Don’t think so, luv."

Buffy lifts one eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" Her voice, their actions are light and teasing, but the sexual tension is drawn tight between them. Each move causes a reaction in the other. Spike runs one hand through his hair and Buffy’s fingers dance across her collarbone. The anticipation is too delicious to ruin. Both want this game to play out a little longer. The result is inevitable. The length of the playtime is still up for grabs.

"Me? Pick a fight?" Spike grins, moving a fraction of an inch closer. Buffy’s chest constricts a bit more. She doesn’t understand why she also has this streak of nerves running through her at a gallop. Seeing him again has her completely out of sorts. Of course, professing her love could have something to do with it. They’ve both had hours to turn their words over in their respective minds. Is she worried he will change his? Or that she will? Buffy nibbles on her bottom lip, trying to push out these thoughts. A glance into his eyes makes her think he is not changing his mind anytime soon. And she has already taken the plunge into the outside world by telling Willow. A huge step.

"Yes, you. You live for fights, remember?"

Spike edges within a foot of Buffy, still sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. He changes the subject. "What were you thinking of?"

Buffy’s heart skips a quick beat. Can he read her mind now? "When?"

"When I got here tonight." She almost lets out a sigh of relief. He looks at her expectantly, but Buffy continues to chew on her lip, just staring at him. Tiny electric sparks seem to be popping back and forth between them, bridging the small distance.

Finally, she decides to tell him. "You." He cocks his head at her, his smile returning. "I was meditating."

"You were meditating on me?" The second Spike’s words leave his mouth, Buffy is on them.

"No, but that can be arranged." Her eyes are dark, the throbbing from below her waist interfering with her ability to think very clearly. Spike’s mouth drops open just a bit. Dirty talk from Buffy? This is something he could get used to. He quickly recovers and makes a decision. Playtime is over. Or maybe, it’s just beginning...

Spike breaches the barrier between them and lets one finger reach out to graze her cheek. Buffy’s eyes close, the relief of him finally touching her evident on her face. His fingertip is not cold, but slightly cooler than her skin. Spike brings the night in with him. The cool darkness, smooth and a bit sinister washes over her. She shivers slightly as his finger continues its path down her neck. His touch is gentle but firm. When he reaches the base of her neck, his finger continues to trail lower and lower, dipping between her breasts. She can still feel his skin on her through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Suddenly, she feels very overdressed. In a lightning fast move, Buffy’s hand shoots out and grabs his, freezing it between her breasts. Her eyes pop open, grabbing his with their intensity. His baby blues have turned storm cloud gray as he gazes down at her. Despite his slow and methodical movements, the barely restrained passion is there. Just under the surface. She can see it in the twitching of the muscles in his neck, the near trembling in his hand as she presses it into her warm flesh, burning through her shirt. She starts to realize that despite his bravado and his brazen arrival in her bedroom, he is...nervous? Since he started touching her, Buffy can almost smell the strangely unfamiliar fear on him. Her brow knits as she tries to delve deeper into his eyes.

"Spike? Are you okay?" Buffy’s hand caresses Spike’s before moving up his arm a little bit, rubbing and kneading the skin of his forearm.

"Mmm...yes, luv. I’m okay." His voice lacks its normal rolling sensuality. She squints at him.

"Spike, this is me. Buffy. Don’t lie to me. It’s part of the deal."

"What deal?" Buffy knows he is trying to divert her, but it won’t work.

"The deal of loving me, of being loved by me. There are standards, codes of behavior and stuff." Buffy’s mouth twitches into a smirk as she reaches out to grab Spike’s waist, hooking her finger in his belt loop and pulling him against the edge of the bed. She feels the tension in his body lessen.

He swallows, his free hand brushing back her loose hair. "So, we’re still...um...in this together, luv?"

"If you mean, do I still love you, then yes. Silly vampire. I’m in for the whole enchilada, the whole nine yards and the whole kit and kaboodle...plus any other cliches you can think of." Buffy grins up at her lover, her eyes dancing in playfulness.

Spike matches her smile, his tongue clicking against the back of his front teeth. "Well, that works out well, pet, ‘cause I still love you too."

The smile still plastered across her face, Buffy remembers the messages her body has been telegraphing through her for the last few hours. Find Spike. Get Spike. Have Spike. And finally, she can act on them. She sits up on her knees on the bed, facing him. She releases Spike’s hand and hooks her hand into his waistband on the other side. She yanks, hard, and feels his body slam against hers, his erection already plainly evident. If possible, the smile gets wider.

"Ready to go, huh?" She bats her eyes innocently as her hands move away from his waist and down his back, suddenly cupping his ass and having a good squeeze, pressing him against her even harder. Spike’s eyes widen as his throbbing cock strains against his jeans.

Recovering quickly, his grin is wicked. "Ready, willing and more than able, luv."

* * * * * Chapter 27: Missing * * * * *



Buffy grins back at him. This is the Spike she was waiting for. His hands go around her, sliding up and under her shirt. The touch is gentle, dancing up her spine. As they always seem to when Spike lays his hands on her, goosebumps spread all over her skin. His hands move higher and she can feel all ten fingers press into her hot skin.

His eyes are hard on hers, the playfulness replaced by something more powerful. The fierceness of their wanting makes her skin heat, her cheeks flush. Buffy’s fingers release his ass, moving within the tight circle of his arms to reach the front of his shirt. The fabric is crisp and cool, fine under her fingertips.

Spike dips his head, moving his face closer to hers. She can see the deep blue of his eyes, flecks of gold flickering there. Under her hands, she feels the low rumble in his chest, a growl. Now that their love has been re-confirmed, his craving for her is multiplied and magnified to the point of near-combustion. Spike spent the last hours before sunrise as restless as Buffy. He woke up, missing the warmth of her body, the taste of her in his mouth. Pacing his crypt, running his fingers through his hair over and over until it stood up on end, he worked himself up into a frenzy. His love for her had only grown stronger in the time she was away from his side. But she had gone out into the daylight. To the world he is not a part of. To the friends that don’t like him. What if she decided it was all a big mistake? The thought of never having her again was almost too much to bear alone in his dark crypt. But she had looked at him, truly looked at him with those sea green eyes and told him. She loved him. As crazy it was that they had fallen for each other, he had to try and believe it was going to last. When the sun finally dipped behind the trees, he had been out of the door like a shot, to confirm his fears or confirm their love.

Thankfully, it was the latter. Spike’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. His gaze drops to her mouth then back to her eyes. There they are, those green depths he had dreamt about and the look was there. The one that penetrated him, made him feel his heart try to beat. Finally, their lips lightly touch. Both squeeze their eyes shut a little harder, the contact a welcome salve to a long afternoon. The kiss grows deeper, tongues diving and tasting. Buffy’s fingers begin to work the buttons of Spike’s shirt even as they kiss longer and harder. So anxious from the anticipation, her hands shake, each button a struggle. Their kiss breaks and Spike’s mouth dives to her neck, suckling and kissing his way up to her ear. Buffy tries to look at the buttons to ease her difficulty. A tiny growl of frustration slips out and Spike’s head pops up in surprise.

"Uh, Buffy? Luv?" His blue eyes are wide, thrown off track briefly. "Did you just....growl?"

Buffy’s eyebrows knit together tightly as she continues to try and undo a button. "Yeah, so? You growl. All the time. You growl when you’re hungry, when you’re tired, when you can’t get a jar open!"

"Don’t forget horny, pet. I do it then, too, But hey, vampire here. Kinda my thing. But you..."

She snaps her eyes to his, sparks flashing. How dare a piece of fabric and little pieces of plastic keep her away from his body. "Is it a problem?"

The smile is slow and she remembers how he can give her shivers just by looking at her a certain way. This certain way. "No, luv. Rather liked it, to tell you the truth."

Buffy bites into her bottom lip. "Spike? If we can find them all, I’ll fix it, okay?" Not giving him a chance to answer, Buffy takes ahold of the two sides of Spike’s shirt and rips them wide open. Buttons go flying through the air in every direction. Spike’s mouth, open to answer her, snaps closed again. Guess she meant the buttons...and the shirt. He looks down, still smiling.

"That’s...three shirts by my count, Slayer. Looks like you’re doing some sewing...or shopping."

Buffy slaps his bare chest. "Three?" Her nose wrinkles in concentration. She begins to count off with her fingers. "Okay, this one. Plus the one that first night. Never did locate all those buttons....but three?"

"T-shirt. In the crypt. Ripped up the middle? A nice black dishrag now."

Buffy giggles. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Forgive me?" She looks up at him through her eyelashes, blinking slowly. "I can...make it up to you." Her fingers slide down Spike’s alabaster chest, letting her fingernails drag a bit, leaving pink trails down his muscled body.

"What did you have in mind?" Spike’s hands rub down her back, sliding inside the waistband of her shorts. Buffy gasps, trying to keep the ability to speak while his cool hands take a grip on her ass.

"Why don’t I just show you? I‘m more with the showing than the telling, y‘know?" Buffy’s fingers curl into the front of Spike’s jeans, tucking the tips inside his waistband. She feels him flinch, her warm touch sending tendrils of warmth through his belly.

Spike laughs, the sound rich and deep. "Sounds go-" Before he can finish his comment, Buffy’s mouth is on his. Lucky for him he doesn’t need to breathe. Her movements are lightning fast and he thanks whoever is looking over him for this tiny bundle of energy in his arms. Her soft lips slam into his, forcing them open immediately. Her tongue grabs his, twisting and tangling. Recovering quickly, Spike matches the force of her kiss. His near-combustion from waiting to see Buffy again has not truly been quenched. He starts to wonder if this is the kind of thirst that can ever be quenched. Having her only makes him want her more.

It suddenly occurs to Buffy and Spike that they are both wearing way too many clothes. In a flailing frenzy of limbs and laughter, they manage to disentangle each other from their clothes. Buffy breathes a sigh of relief as she feels Spike’s cool skin against hers. Finally.

In the course of undressing each other, they’ve ended up on Buffy’s bed in a heap, clothes strewn around them. Speed, not neatness, was of the essence. Buffy rolls on top of Spike, covering him with her petite body. Taking ahold of his head with both hands, she grins and brings her mouth back down to his. The kiss is light and gentle, little pecks at first. As Buffy’s fingers dig into Spike’s hair, the kiss grows stronger. Spike grabs her waist and pulls, rolling on top of her. The clutching and kissing regains its fury, the lust taking them past all boundaries of patience. They silently agree that they have to satisfy this before anything else. With a squeeze of her thighs, Buffy takes Spike over again, putting her on top. She giggles and they stop kissing just long enough for Spike to meet her eyes. His eyes twinkle in the dark room and his voice breaks the quiet. "Slayer."

Buffy feigns ignorance. "Yes, Spikey?"

"You always get what you want, don’t you?"

"Uh-huh."

"And what is it you want? To be on top?" Spike tries to sound stern, but the laughter is creeping in.

"On top of you, yeah."

"Y’know, you could just tell me instead of bloody flippin’ me ’til I’m dizzy."

"I told you, silly vamp. I like to show, not tell."

"You mean, like this?" Spike wraps his arms around Buffy and rolls them quickly, placing himself on top. Before he can react, she has them rolling again...and then... *THUMP*

Silence.

"Oww." Entangled in the bedclothes and now on the floor, Buffy rubs her head.

"Oww yourself, luv. I broke your fall!"

Buffy’s eyes light up as she examines Spike’s position. "And look, I’m still on top!"

"Bloody hell, woman. Just come here." Again, the mock sternness quickly dissolves as their lips meet. Buffy leans down and presses her length against Spike, shoving the comforter out of the way so they are connected top to bottom. "Well, this is alright. Maybe I’ll let you stay on top, then." He cracks a lop-sided smile, loving the way he can push her buttons.

"Oooh, you! Let me? That’s it. No mercy." Buffy locks onto his eyes, those eyes that melt her from the inside out. The smile fades from her eyes to be replaced by a soft tenderness. She has him, right where she wants him. The tenderness quickly turns to lust. It takes mere seconds to rev their motors right back up to overdrive. Buffy’s mouth drops toward Spike’s mouth, but takes a sudden detour to his neck. Spike can feel her hot breath against his skin just before moist lips press there. He slides his eyes closed. God, she does know what he likes. She nibbles down his neck, licking and sucking the length before dropping a kiss in the hollow at the base. Spike’s hands come to rest on her waist, bracing himself for more. Buffy feels a surge of arousal race through her and realizes she may not be able to take this slow. Enough. She needs him. Her heart pounds. She is soaking wet and knows he is more than ready. With a steady hand and a shimmy of her hips, Buffy guides Spike’s rock-hard cock to her entrance. His eyes open to land on hers again, her warm hand bringing him into her blazing heat. She slides onto him, slowly, watching every muscle twitch in his jaw, feeling his hands tighten on her waist. Finally, she is home. Filled and connected. Buffy exhales in relief. The hours between this connection were too long. Spike struggles not to move for a few minutes, letting himself feel her, letting the languid warmth seep into his entire body, loosening his joints, softening his skin. The next kiss is deep, long and breathless.

She begins to move. A small amount at first, just a bit up and back down. The pace increases, building momentum. She wants more. Harder. Faster. Buffy drives down on him over and over, gasping into their kisses, grasping at him with her small hands. Spike’s eyes glaze over for a moment. She is all-encompassing. The gentle scent of her soap mixing with her salty sweat and the musk of arousal. She surrounds him with scent and pleasure and heat until he begins to feel that sense of near-combustion again.

Buffy bites his ear, not letting up in her rhythm, rolling her hips into his with Slayer strength. Her breath tickles him as she whispers, "Your turn."

The throaty growl startles them both. Spike is on top before Buffy can take another breath, driving into her like a jackhammer. Buffy moans in pleasure, the sensation of him entering her with such power dissolving her limbs into jelly. He is bracing herself on either side of her head, coming within fractions of an inch of her face with each thrust. Just letting their lips graze on each pass. Making sure he can see her do it, Buffy drags her own hands down her chest, running them over and around her breasts. Spike bites into his lip, his eyes darting from her hands to her face. Just when he thought he could not come closer to completely losing control, she does this. Lays her hands on that taut little body right in front of him. Buffy’s mouth is open a little, her tongue poking out to wet her lips. Her hands meet just above the site of their joining. Spike cannot easily see her actions, but her face tells him everything. As her fingers work below, her breath comes in bursts. Despite this new distraction, Spike does not stop driving home into her sweet depths. He is very close to coming and he sees that she is well on her way. One of Buffy’s arms shoots up to grab the back of Spike’s neck, slowing him briefly. She brings his forehead to hers, letting their eyes meet. Buffy’s entire body stiffens as she inhales sharply. Spike feels her muscles contract over his cock and he lets go completely, coming hard within the tight circle of her arm. They both witness the emotion and sensation careen across the other’s face as orgasm disintegrates their control and finally brings the release they crave.

Minutes later, locked in each other’s arms, Buffy sighs contentedly. She murmurs in Spike’s ear as she grows sleepy, "Mm, missed you. Missed this." Her kiss is tender and gentle and it breaks Spike into a million satisfied pieces as he pulls her tight against him.

* * * * * Chapter 28: Moonlight * * * * *

Spike stirs a few hours later, his natural wakefulness at night overcoming his post-orgasmic need for sleep. His body and years of experience tell him it is still early. Still before midnight. His anxiousness to find her, to have her got him into her arms awfully early. Lying on his back, Spike turns his head very slightly to see the object of his affection. He feels the now-familiar tightness in his chest as he sees Buffy. Asleep, she looks smaller, softer, more gentle. It’s hard to believe the power tucked away in this delicate creature.

Having crawled back into the bed a few hours ago, her head is resting on his chest, one arm draped over him, the other tucked under her chin. The rest of her body is curled into his, one leg slightly nudging into his side. Even the pressure of her skin on his wakes his arousal. A small pocket of warmth where her knee meets his hip, the line of her arm across his chest and he wants to wake her, ravage her. Spike sighs quietly and closes his eyes. His slight movement seems to jar her and he freezes. Though he wants her awake, he wants her to wake on her own this time. Not sure why, it just seems...polite? Spike bites back a snort. When did he start being polite? Tiny thing already has him whipped like a little vamp puppy. Buffy makes a soft mewling noise and her whole body twitches against him.

"Mmm...Spike..." Spike starts to answer, but realizes that Buffy is actually dreaming. About him. Despite the hours and hours of mind-blowing sex, this surprises him a bit. He is even there in her mind. In her subconscious. Wow. This is for real.

Her voice breaks into his thoughts. "Oh yeah...right there. Mmmmm..." Spike lifts his eyebrows. So, this dream’s like that, is it? The smirk is on his face before he can stop himself. Bloody male pride, can’t fight it. He fights the need to puff out his chest and congratulate himself since the subject of his pride is on said chest. She is still moving and Spike is finding it harder and harder not to reach out to touch her. She has one of his arms trapped underneath her, but it is wrapped around her back. "Oh god...ohh ohh..." In her sleep, Buffy’s voice is getting more husky, her breathing more rapid. Spike is becoming less able to control himself. And wondering why he is. Should he wake her or let her dream? She could have the real thing if she was awake. He is certainly ready to go. Her hand on his chest starts to move in a caress on his bare skin. Her right leg slips over his and between, sliding up and down slowly. Spike grits his teeth. Really not fair. "Spike! Don’t stop....oh, harder!" Her voice is piercing him, driving him to move, to take her into his arms. But he holds back and listens. The curiosity is too much. The dream is clearly picking up steam, if the movements of her hand and leg are any indication. Spike feels her whole body move in reaction to something Dream Spike is doing to her. She tenses and relaxes, then moans. But her breathing doesn’t slow and neither does the talking. "Oh. OH. OH!" Spike’s hands clench into fists. This is too bleedin’ much to ask. His Slayer is close to having a mind-shattering orgasm and he is only there in her mind! Buffy’s head moves and Spike suddenly feels something warm and wet against his ear. Her tongue. Oh for crying...she is licking his ear. Now nibbling the earlobe. And working her way back down his neck. Humming against it so he wants to crawl out of his skin with desire. Her hand moves from his chest to the side of his face, turning him towards her. Just as Spike is going to crack and wake her immediately, she pulls him into a kiss. Her mouth is warm and insistent and he forgets that she is dreaming as her tongue enters his mouth. Who cares if she is dreaming? He is feeling this kiss all the way down to his...no wait, how did her hand get down there so fast... Spike’s eyes pop open as he hears a sound he didn’t expect.

A giggle.

Buffy pulls back and meets his shocked blue eyes with her mischievous hazel. "Hi, Spike." She smiles widely as he drops his mouth open. With a barely contained growl, Spike rolls her under him, pinning both her wrists above her head.

"Playing with me, luv?" He pretends to be mad, but is secretly thrilled. She squirms, pretending to struggle, but really just as secretly thrilled as Spike.

"You seem to like it, Spike..." His warning growl makes Buffy continue. "Well, truthfully, I was asleep and I started having this dream. About you." Buffy lifts her legs, and slowly wraps them around Spike’s waist. Letting her feet run down the backs of his legs, she continues. "And it was getting me so...well, I decided I wanted the real deal." Buffy nibbles on her bottom lip, fully aware of the affect her dream behavior and current actions are having on Spike. And loving it from the bottom of her Slayer heart. She remembers how his body tensed under her hand moments earlier. How she could feel the barely contained power struggling to burst free.

Buffy lets one foot roam slowly down Spike’s leg, digging her toes into his flesh slightly. "Not mad, are you?" She reaches up with one hand, letting a finger trace Spike’s jaw muscle lightly. Spike closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation. "You couldn’t be mad at little ol’ me..."

"Mmm...’course not, pet." Spike’s eyes roam over Buffy’s face and down her body, taking in her rapid pulse and flushed cheeks. She can see an idea forming. "Come on."

Buffy cocks her head to the side in curiosity as Spike stands up and backs away from the bed and holds out his hand. This is a twist. She smiles a little and gently places her hand in his. His grip is strong, and he runs his thumb gently over the back of her hand before pulling her off the bed and to her feet. With only a clear blue look and no words, he leads Buffy to the window of her room. Dropping her hand, Spike flings open the curtains, the nearly full moon flooding the room in silver blue light. Buffy blinks, amazed at the brightness. She turns to look at Spike, wondering why they are over here. He has taken a few steps back and the expression on his face has changed. The words in her mouth die on her tongue as she looks at him. Buffy finds herself wondering how she could have been so wrong about Spike for so long. That he could look on her with such sweetness, such love. It simply never occurred to her. Even seeing him with Dru did not prepare her for this. He loves her. ‘Oh god, he really loves me.’ The voice in Buffy’s head is dumbfounded at how quickly these feelings have developed and how tight a grip they have on her and on him. He moves toward her, circling behind and sitting on the window seat, his back to the glass. Buffy turns around, facing Spike, the tiniest of smiles touching her mouth as she studies him.

Spike just stares. He thought she was made of sunlight and warmth, but now he can see the other side of her more clearly than ever. The cool silver light washes over her naked body, outlining her in grays and blues, highlighting her curves and valleys. "I just wanted to see you, luv." He gestures towards the window, the moon low enough to see just above the trees. Unspoken is that he wanted to see her in his light, in his ‘daytime’. She nods and smiles.

The light turns his hair white, casts sharp shadows over his body. The unnerving illusion that he is made of stone, of ivory is in full force. She, as always, expects Spike to be cold to the touch, but he is not. Stepping closer, she reaches out to his cheek and it is cool, but not cold. And soft, not hard and unyielding. The illusion drops away. He may be undead, but he is still flesh and he does live. Not physically, but in every other way. He tastes the world around him, drinks it down in big gulps. Touches and tastes and scents, all devoured. And love. God, he loves. With bottomless devotion and passion. Buffy realizes how badly she wants that. How she has always envied his ability to love so hard it hurts, so furiously it burns. Looking on him in the light of the moon, she can start to feel that fire. And it feels good.

Buffy slides in between Spike’s legs and stands there, gazing down at him. With both hands now, she strokes the sides of his face tracing his cheekbones with her thumbs. Spike’s arms lift to circle her, hands curving into her backbone. She smiles, just a little and he matches it. The weight of his hands on her back is a welcome pressure. Dipping her head ever so slowly, Buffy brings her mouth down to his. Their lips brush once, twice and then the kiss takes hold. It builds in intensity quickly, their mouths seeking, and finding, that fire. Spike’s fingers dig into Buffy’s back and she tangles her fingers in his sleep-tousled curls. Without breaking the kiss, Spike’s hands slide down, hooking Buffy’s thighs and pulling her into his lap. She makes a noise into his mouth as she settles in to straddle his hips. Any question of his readiness is immediately erased. The night is his time and Spike is fully alert. Buffy smiles into the kiss before pulling back a few inches. Spike’s hands run back up her spine and into her hair, holding her still. "Thought you just wanted to see me?" Her grin is full of mischief and Spike answers her with one raised eyebrow.

"Buffy, luv, I’ve never been good at keeping my hands to myself."

"Right. Less look-y, more touch-y. I knew that. One of the things I love about you." She nibbles on his lip before diving back into the kiss. For just a moment, Spike disconnects from the moment as he turns her words over in his head. Does she even realize what she just said? She just threw it out there again. Not as if she didn’t mean it, no, as if she means it so much it comes out naturally. Arousal burns through Spike like wildfire. The growl rumbles up from his chest as he lifts her just enough. Just enough to drive himself home in one smooth motion, flush into her warmth. Buffy gasps, his movement so quick and so complete, she is taken off-guard. Her arms flail out slightly for balance and she ends up with her palms pressed against the cool glass of her window behind him.

The smile on his face sharpens his cheekbones, creases the skin around his eyes, those eyes twinkling in the moonlight. The ache in Buffy’s heart squeezes tight as he holds very still, filling her to the point where pleasure and pain meet. She pulls her palms away from the glass and rests them on Spike’s shoulders as she rolls and lifts her hips in one motion. Now it is her turn to smile as he gasps. Recovering quickly, Spike licks his bottom lip slowly before leaning forward, flicking his tongue out to tease her nipple. Buffy lifts herself slightly in reaction, then slams back down on him. They teeter back and forth, the giver and the recipient of pleasure, of mind-blowing sensation screaming over their skin. Halfway home already , Buffy and Spike rock into each other in the blue light. The quiet is broken by moans and gasps and the slide of skin on skin. Accelerated motion and breathing herald the moment they are driving towards with every clutch and squeeze. Buffy throws her head back, arching her back as she rides up and down on him, harder and faster, harder and faster until the night is shattered by her short, ragged half-screams. Holding and watching his Slayer, Spike follows quickly as her inner muscles pull him right over the edge. Collapsing against him, Buffy rests her cheek on Spike’s shoulder, her mouth just against the skin of his neck. Her breath pulses warm on his skin as he stands up, holding her to him. Leaning over the bed, he slowly releases her nearly limp body and she melts into the bedclothes, reaching out for him to join her. "Right back, luv." With a few quick steps, Spike is back at the window. With one last glimpse outside and back over his shoulder at his lover cast in silver light, he pulls the curtains closed.

Back at the side of the bed, Spike looks down into Buffy’s eyes for a few intense moments before slipping back into bed. He hates to let go of the night, knows that when the day comes, they will face more questions, tough questions. Questions of how this will work, how they can be together. Right now, he has no questions. As Buffy’s arms slide around, pulling him to her, he has the only answer he needs.