The Writing on the Wall by Holly

ReviewsRating: NC-17

Summary: There was no body to bury. There was no funeral. There was nothing but the three rules and the knowledge that a thousand years of torment was nothing compared to a world without her in it. Spike embarks on a journey through the Gates of Hell to rescue the one he loves, but in order to save her, he must risk losing himself.

 

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Chapter 27

He shook so hard the ground nearly trembled with him, but nothing could stop his course. Sex was something he hadn’t given much thought to until a few days ago—until tumbling into a new world containing a Buffy starved for touch. Suddenly he felt like a virgin, shy and self-aware and uncertain how to proceed. It was bloody ridiculous but true, and there was little he could do about it. Especially with the knowledge that no matter how long it had been for him, it had been three times that for her. He had to be careful when all he wanted to do was tear into her body and remember what being alive truly felt like.

That was the demon talking. The man understood the significance of the moment, understood how long it had taken to come this far.

It was Buffy, not a knock off and not some dream. Buffy’s skin was beneath his fingers. Buffy’s heart beat against his chest, in his ears. Buffy’s eyes stared into his. Buffy was with him every step of the way, and the realization of his long held dream was enough to choke him with awe.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered, walking her back to the makeshift bed. He wished now he’d had the foresight to drag a mattress to their happy home, but he hadn’t and he wasn’t about to suggest they leave.

“I can’t either,” Buffy replied honestly, raising her arms high. He took the cue and drew her shirt over her head, and just like that she was naked. He’d seen her naked before—he’d stood in the shower with her, washed her skin and shaved her legs. He’d been on his knees before her, tongue buried in her pussy as his fingers strummed her clit like a harp. All that seemed eons in the past.

Fumbling fingers found his fly. It took half a second for Spike to realize she was attempting to undress him, her body shaking nearly as hard as his. With a soft smile, he took her wrist in his hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on the pulse point. “Let me worry about that, kitten,” he whispered.

“I don’t remember what to do,” she said, her eyes large. “I’m…I’m not sure if I’m going to be…you know, good…”

His smile faded. “Hey now. None of that, you hear?”

“But I—”

“Buffy, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”

She laughed nervously. “And that’s exactly my point! I have a ton of fantasies to live up to and the last time I had sex, I was nineteen. I’m what, eight thousand now?”

He snickered. “Hardly.”

“Close enough.”

“You have nothin’ to worry about, precious,” Spike assured her, kicking off his jeans and closing the space between them. Her naked flesh against his… Christ. His cock had been hard since first taking her into his arms and now with it between them, rubbing her stomach and shoving the situation over the border between thought and deed, he could barely cap his need.

“I want to be good for you,” Buffy whispered. “I…I don’t remember…”

“Please stop worrying about me,” Spike murmured, running his hands up and down her arms. “I love you. That’s not somethin’ I say for laughs, pet.”

Worry lines receded, but not completely. “I know.”

He nodded and brushed loose strands of hair from her face before leaning in and gently caressing her lips with his. There was little in the world that could not be proven with an example, and the only way he knew to placate her fears was to expose them and show her he meant what he said. In easy seconds, Buffy’s argument had vanished, replaced with an eager mouth and wandering hands that roamed his body without reserve. Her hands on his skin alone was enough to reduce a vampire to tears.

It all seemed so unreal. Buffy in his arms. Buffy’s lips pressed to his. Buffy’s tongue playing with his tongue. Buffy touching him. Buffy’s hand gripping his cock.

Spike hissed and broke away, breathing hard. “Buffy…”

“Your eyes…”

He panted.

“They’re gold.”

“Need you…now.”

Buffy nodded jerkily and in a blink she was on her back, his body laying between her legs, his cock nudging her silken folds as his mouth rained kisses on her throat. She tasted…there were no words for her taste. He could spend hours worshipping her skin alone. He’d waited centuries to be where he was now—over indulgence didn’t exist.

It was Buffy. It truly was Buffy. His brain simply couldn’t accept it.

“You’re so soft,” Spike whispered, lips dancing across her cheek, dropping a kiss on her mouth before traveling down her throat. At the rush of her pulse, his fangs itched but he ignored the call. She needed no reminders of his monstrosity. Not now. “So soft…”

Buffy met his eyes and smiled, lifting her head to steal a kiss off his lips, her body undulating under his in a gentle rhythm. The slightest twitch was enough to send him off.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” she whispered.

Spike blinked. “The first time, eh?”

She nodded. “I don’t…you told me a lot in the beginning. To jar my memory or…and you might have told me that, but I don’t remember. Everything’s still a little fuzzy.”

“Not sure how much you want to hear, pet. I wasn’t there to ask you to a sock hop.”

She made a face at him. “I know that, doofus. As it is, I don’t take off my stylish boots for just anyone.” She glanced down to her bare feet. “As soon as I get them back, that is.”

His stomach twisted at that, but he didn’t want to focus on the negatives now. Rather, he hooked his attention on something that would keep the mood between them light. “Doofus?” Spike’s brows perked, his hips jerking forward so the length of his cock slid between her drenched lips. She pooled liquid heat, and it was his to drink, his to explore, his for the moment, at least, and nothing could take that away.

“Ooohhh,” Buffy moaned, arching against him. Her hands had found his forearms, nails digging, her teeth playing with her lower lip in a way that would convince a bloke to change religions. “Oh, do that again.”

Now he felt a bit more like himself. A lost bit of swagger returned from nowhere, and he was damn glad to see it again. “Do what, pet?” he replied, sliding his cock against her slit again. “Is that it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Now what’s that you called me?”

“Doofus.” She didn’t even bat an eye. Rather, she had the audacity to poke her tongue out at him.

“I wouldn’t say that again.”

“Or what?” she countered. “You’ll punish me some more?”

Spike smirked, a rush tingling up his spine. “Oh, you like punishment, do you?” he purred, rotating his hips so his cock dragged across her wet flesh.

Buffy’s gaze turned heated, shifting beneath him. And just as quickly as it had arrived, the lightness in the mood dwindled in favor of wonder. It was really happening—this was really happening. Buffy’s small hands gripping him, her warm body surging against his to a rhythm only she could hear. What she’d said was true—there were thousands of fantasies, maybe millions, all compiled and building toward a crescendo he never thought he’d reach. Loving Buffy was revolutionary, and feeling her skin under his, her warmth burning him to dust, completely eclipsed the world where fantasies lay. No dream could taste so sweet.

“When I first saw you,” Spike whispered, dropping kisses along her collarbone, his mouth slowly migrating southward. “I thought, ‘Now there’s a girl a bloke could get lost in.’”

His mouth found one of her nipples and captured it between his teeth, leaving the other to his fingers.

“Unh,” Buffy sighed, running her hand through his hair. “Liar.”

“Not a lie,” he replied with a grin, raising his head a bit. “Just because I was there to kill you doesn’t mean I didn’t see what you were.” His lips trailed kisses between the valley of her breasts until her other nipple was a slave to his mouth. “What you are.”

“Spike…”

He had his mouth around her breast. “Mmmm?”

“That feels…” Buffy’s head careened back, her hips moving more fiercely against his, needing friction. “Oh, God…”

“You’re so wet,” he observed, her breast plopping free.

“Ahh…I forgot what this felt like.”

Spike smiled. He had, too, but she didn’t need to know that. It placed them on even ground. He was about to lose himself all over again but it might as well have been the first time, and it was perfect. Everything was perfect. Buffy’s small little gasps, the widening of her eyes, the way she moved shyly, afraid of her own femininity yet empowered at the same time. She was so beautiful and she didn’t see it. She never had.

He was determined to make her see—to open her eyes so she knew just how precious she was. Spike’s fingers trailed between them, sliding over her mound and parting her slick pussy lips. “You’re gonna burn me up,” he murmured, fingertips brushing her clit as his mouth wandered further down her belly. He wanted to eat her until she forgot where she was, wanted give her something beautiful in Hell. He knew he could, and he was determined to do it.

It wasn’t until his lips danced over her mound that Buffy gasped, fisting his hair. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want…that.”

He frowned. “I thought…like before?”

“I don’t…I just want…” Her skin flushed. “Spike, I just want you. Please.”

His heart twisted. “I want to taste you,” he replied insolently, head dipping and tongue stealing a long, delicious lap of her slit. “Please?”

“Uhh…I want you to, too,” Buffy replied honestly. “I just…I want you inside me.”

The words made him shudder. “I do, too,” Spike all but growled. The demon pushed at him, demanding freedom but getting nowhere. There were plenty of demons in Hell—there need not be one here. Not in bed with Buffy. “But you’re gonna be tight, love.” So tight he was almost cross-eyed just thinking about it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Buffy licked her lips but didn’t reply. Then she lifted her hips off the ground in invitation. “Just a little,” she said. “I want you.”

“Believe me, baby, you’re gonna get me.” Spike tossed her a quick grin, lowering his head and sucking her clit between his lips without warning. Her answering mewl was music to his ears, her body draining immediately of tension she likely hadn’t even realized she possessed. The second he felt her legs go slack, his fingers took to her opening, spreading her to the perusal of his hungry tongue and the prodding of his inquisitive fingers. There was a little resistance upon sliding a finger inside her, and Christ, for the way she clamped those magical muscles around him and dragged him deeper inside her, every cell in his body tightened with anticipation.

“Oh yeah,” Spike purred, greedy eyes absorbing the sight. He felt awake in ways he hadn’t in centuries. He’d made her come several times since his arrival in her Hell, but he hadn’t let himself feel much. It had been a moral gray area—pesky conscience—and though he reveled in her ecstasy, observing her for personal gratification had been shoved aside. Credit that to another wisdom time had given him—it had been damn hard, fucking hard, but those times were behind them. Buffy was with him now. This was something she wanted, something she’d asked him for, and he wasn’t about to deny himself.

“So pretty,” he murmured, tapping her clit with his tongue. “So fucking pretty.” He paused, eyes roaming greedily up her body until their eyes clashed again. “Any pain, love?”

Buffy hissed and shook her head.

He nodded and slipped another finger inside her. “How about that?”

“Ohhh…good.”

“Good, eh?”

“Yes…”

Spike grinned and left her clit with a parting kiss. “I’ll come back here later,” he promised, crawling back up her body. “But you asked me for something…”

“I want you,” Buffy agreed, humming when the head of his cock nudged her wet flesh. “Spike?”

“Mmm?” His mouth was again preoccupied with her sweet skin, nibbling on her chin as his hands wandered over her warm, blushing body. His cock aligned with her opening, the tip nudging inside. Fuck. Her heat nearly ripped him apart. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Be careful.”

The words lent him pause. He raised his head. “Sweetheart?”

She smiled shyly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Are you…”

“I’m ready,” she said, raising her head to steal a kiss off his lips. “I want you…inside. Just…can we go slow? I haven’t had…haven’t done this in a thousand years—literally—and I just…can we go slow?”

“Oh, Buffy…”

“I feel like a virgin…and not the Madonna type. The real type.”

He smirked. “Your memory’s improving,” he noted, kissing her cheek.

“I keep telling you.”

Spike’s smile softened, brushing hair out of her eyes. “We’ll go slowly,” he promised, cock gradually easing into her body, and the world around him melted in bliss.

There were moments in life that reestablished, reshaped, and redefined—this was one of them. After so many years of searching, needing, after letting his body rot and die a thousand times over, the sheer wonderment of being inside her erased centuries of pain and united him with truths he’d long forgotten. She was so tight, so wonderfully tight, her body practically untouched, lying with him, surrounded by evidence of her isolation. The world might have been defined as torture, but he didn’t know the meaning of the word anymore. Holding himself inside her, feeling her clench and grip, suck his cock as deep inside her as he could fit, he was completely remade.

Dreams couldn’t hope to compare with reality.

“Oh God,” Spike hissed, bracing his hands on the floor. “Oh, my God.”

“Uhhh…” Buffy’s eyes were screwed shut, a look of pleasure-laced-pain straining across her face.

God, she was beautiful.

“This all right, baby?” Spike whispered, hooking his arms under her shoulders and burying his face in the crook of her neck. “You feel so good.”

His hips moved in small, shallow thrusts, allowing her to get used to him. She fit him like a glove, warm, wet velvet wrapped around his prick, searing his skin and squeezing him into new life. When she didn’t reply, he tentatively sped up the pace of his thrusts, drinking in every shade of ecstasy that flashed across her face.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, running his right hand up her arm until their palms were pressed together, their fingers entwining. He felt reawakened, reborn, tumbling into a world he’d forgotten. She gripped him so tightly, holding him, suctioning him back inside her with every withdrawal, and he felt pained to leave were it not for the overwhelming bliss of sinking back home.

“I forgot,” Buffy whispered at last, her body responding shyly but slowly gaining confidence. “I forgot what this…felt like.”

“Mmm,” Spike replied, nuzzling her cheek before dropping a kiss along her skin. Her pussy hugged him, stretched and welcomed him, and it was the most beautiful moment of his life. “Tell me.”

“Tell you,” she repeated. Her free hand found his face, and he wasted no time sucking a finger between his lips. “I feel…split.”

“In a good way?” Spike asked, nibbling softly on her skin. His cock slipped out of her for half a second earning him an almost pained gasp before sliding back into her heat. His blunt teeth came down gently on her finger, teasing her before releasing her, and smiling when she smiled up at him. “Tell me this is good.”

At that, Buffy grinned wildly and leaned up, pressing her mouth to his as the soft parries of her body exploded into a new rhythm. It wasn’t hard, but quicker, signaling the spark of a burn he knew she had to feel. It had been too long for both of them, and she felt too good to last.

They had all the time in the world.

“Mmm.” It was a soft murmur; she was too preoccupied battling his lips with hers. Her pussy grew tighter with every plunge, bathing him in her juices. The sound of their bodies smacking together was another thing he’d forgotten—how hot it made him and how real it made everything else. His balls tightened—he’d forgotten that, too: the way his cock grew harder just as he approached the verge of climax.

But he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to see her tumble over, watch pleasure wrap around her and make her tremble until she felt nothing at all except him inside her. Until the pain of a thousand years was a blink in the past and they had nothing left but now.

When she whispered a soft but heartfelt, “It’s good,” he’d nearly forgotten he’d asked her anything at all. His mouth was everywhere, exploring her throat, nipping at her breasts, teasing her nipples with soft flicks of his tongue, soaking her in and locking her inside a memory no one could take away.

Buffy arched, the sounds clawing at her throat wrapping around his heart. “You feel,” she whispered. “Oh, God, Spike, tell me this is mine.”

“It’s yours.”

“Tell me…”

“It’s yours, baby. So am I. Always bloody have been.”

His fingers slipped between them, settling over her swollen clitoris, testing her with a soft tap to ensure she wasn’t too sensitive. When he earned a warm gasp, he seized permission and began massaging her slowly, needing to feel her squeeze and drench and come apart around him. It was too sweet to last. He would have this again.

He would know the bliss of being one with Buffy. There had never been anything like this before—sex was a distant memory, sure, but something he knew he knew. He might have forgotten how it felt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t certain it had never felt like this, and that had nothing to do with the years behind him or the uncertainty ahead, and everything to do with Buffy. He’d never yearned for a woman as he’d yearned for her, never felt completely taken over by something he thought he’d never have only to manage a way of earning it.

Her skin, her warm body, her shining eyes, her loving mouth, her pussy squeezing his cock into a next life—all things he never thought he’d have. And here she was, loving him without words.

“I love you,” Spike whispered, thrusting a bit harder, a bit needier. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect little circle, one he couldn’t keep from kissing. The strokes his fingers took against her clit became faster—faster, but not harder. Later he could explore just how hard he could take things without hurting her, but for the moment this was perfect. His sort of perfect.

It didn’t matter that the words weren’t returned. The heat of the moment wasn’t the time for confessions of the heart. As it was, she was his. If not forever then for a heartbeat in forever, and he would take whatever she gave.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

“Spike…”

“You’re close, aren’t you, kitten?”

She nodded wildly, hips bucking, pussy squeezing, demanding his return each time his cock pulled away. “Feel…hot…all over…inside…ohh…”

He kissed her and she responded desperately, scratching his lips with her teeth, tongue wrapping around his and releasing small little gasps into his mouth. The hand linked with hers squeezed, his other manipulated her clit and teased her soaked flesh…needing beyond need. She was so close—he felt how close she was. Every thrust was shoved back, her wondrous slayer muscles squeezing his cock so sweetly he might cry. It built on, tumbled forward, pressed into a crescendo he needed to catch. Needed to feel. Needed…

“Spike,” she whispered against his lips, and then she was gone. Her pussy tightened and drenched, her body breaking down into tremors he’d spent centuries chasing. She gasped and clawed, her eyes widened, her body reared, resisting more and demanding it all at once, and he was a goner. With her muscles pulling him into tomorrow, Spike buried his face in the crook of her neck and sank his blunt teeth into her skin, and everything else fell away. Every muscle contracted, shuddering hard and jerking as he spilled himself inside her.

He heard his name, but he didn’t answer it. He couldn’t. Instead, he pulled back, licking the place where he’d bitten her and teasing his fangs to the brink of pain. But he didn’t want blood…not right now. Blood would taint the moment and it was too perfect to pollute.

She whispered his name again as though lost in a dream, and he kissed her.

If ever he thought he could touch her without needing to keep her, the notion vanished.

“I love you.”

She smiled and replied, “I know.” And he knew she knew.

That much, for now, was enough.

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