Author’s Notes: I actually got the idea for this fic reading Dear Abby of all things. A woman was complaining about how her husband couldn’t sit still while they were watching television, and all I could see was Buffy and Spike. Although there was a lot less sex in the Dear Abby letter. Which was probably a good thing…
This fic is part of my Post-Chosen series, but like all the fics in that, it can be read as a stand-alone. All you need to know is shortly after “Not Fade Away,” Spike got a heartbeat (though he still has super-strength, speed, etc.), and he and Buffy married. They had a couple of kids, too, for good measure.
The kids were in bed, the kitchen was cleaned up after dinner, and Buffy could finally settle down on the couch and enjoy a nice, quiet evening watching television.
Or at least she could in theory.
In practice, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the screen.
Not with all the fidgeting.
She took a deep breath, trying to call on Slayer meditation techniques to block out distractions. She could do that whole standing on her head and keeping crystals balanced thing Giles seemed to think made some sort of sense, so this should be a piece of cake.
The television, Buffy… You’re watching the television.
Only her eyes kept darting over to the side, watching his leg as it seemed to vibrate on its own.
Finally, with the sweetest smile she could manage, Buffy turned to her husband. “Spike, honey, could you possibly keep your leg still? It’s distracting.”
Spike glanced over at her. “Huh? Oh, right, sorry. Didn’t realize I was doing that, luv,” he replied as his leg stopped its shaking.
“It’s okay,” Buffy said, grateful she could concentrate on the show now.
At least until the tapping began…
With obvious annoyance, Buffy’s eyes made their way back over to Spike’s leg, this time watching as his fingers drummed against it. His fingertips made a soft sound against the denim of his jeans, yet it seemed to be amplified in her ears.
Her hand shot out and grabbed his, entwining their fingers and holding his still. He seemed to accept the gesture at face value, and Buffy sighed inwardly in relief. She prided herself on her quick thinking. Not only had the tapping stopped, but she got to enjoy the feel of Spike’s warm, strong hand in hers—both things that were very much of the good.
Then, she realized the flaw in her plan.
Spike had two hands, and one was still free to tap.
“Do you have to do that? Geez, you’ve got more energy than the kids!”
“What?” Spike asked, blinking. “Buffy, I’m not doing anything.”
Buffy’s eyes zeroed in on his hand, and she pointed at it as it performed the offending act. “Yes, you are! You’re being all fidgety! Again!”
Spike sighed. “I’m sorry! Do we have to keep having this bloody argument? I. Can’t. Help. It.” He emphasized every word with a harsh drum of his fingers against his leg.
Buffy sucked in a deep breath, her annoyance quickly rising into the anger range. “Yes, you can! Just stop moving your hands! And…and your legs! Just stop moving!”
“And should I stop breathing, too, while I’m at it, your highness?” Spike snapped, putting an extra dose of sarcasm into his words.
“Ugh! You’re so overdramatic!” Buffy hissed, earning her a raised eyebrow from Spike. “You can breathe, just do it without wiggling around like a two year old.”
“Fine,” Spike replied snippily. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.
Buffy sighed softly. Sure, Spike was mad at her, but at least she could pay attention to the show. Or the latter half anyway, since she’d missed the first part. She’d make it up to Spike later, when they went to bed.
For three whole minutes, Buffy had a little peace.
Spike’s arms were still crossed over his chest, yet now his fingers were drumming on his forearms. “Gah!” Buffy yelled. “Can’t you just like, sit on your hands or something?”
Spike turned to her, his eyes flashing. “Sit on my hands? No!”
“Then stop tapping them! Geez, it’s not rocket science, Spike!”
“Nor is it that big of a deal, you bloody little control freak!”
“I am not a control freak!” Buffy screeched. “I just can’t watch the television with you flopping around.”
“I’m not…” Spike stopped, his jaw twitching as he fought to reign himself in. “Fine. I’ll sit on my sodding hands if that will make you happy.” He made a show of slipping his hands under his upper thighs.
“Thank you,” Buffy said, her arms crossed over her chest now as she turned back to the show.
It wasn’t long, however, until his leg began to shake again.
“What is wrong with you?” Buffy yelled, throwing her arms up in the air. She paused for a moment, eyeing him warily. “Did you drink Red Bull again, because Spike, we’ve talked about that.”
“Did I…?” Spike scoffed in the way that always tipped Buffy off to him being less than truthful. “That’s a bloody silly question.”
Buffy’s eyebrow arched up. “I think it’s a damn good one, twitchy. You know what that stuff does to you. Hell, a single cup of coffee has you vibrating off the walls. You’re way too high strung for it, Spike.”
“I am not high strung.” Spike gave her a defiant look. “You’re high strung.”
“And apparently, you’ve asked Anne for arguing tips from pre-school,” Buffy replied. “I’m not the one being all fidgety.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you had better taste in shows on the telly, I wouldn’t be all fidgety,” Spike retorted. He looked at her smugly.
Buffy gasped. “I do not have…! Ugh! This coming from the man who thinks Passions is the height of television excellence! I’m not the one with bad taste in television shows.”
“Bloody Sex and the City reruns? You’re lucky I’m only fidgeting and not trying to hang myself,” Spike replied. “Those bints give me a headache the likes of which I haven’t known since Harmony.” He infused the name of his ex with disgust.
“Then why are you even in here?”
Spike’s expression darkened. “I don’t know. I was thinking it might be nice to spend the evening with my wife, but I guess I was wrong.” He stood up and stormed out of the living room before Buffy could respond.
Buffy flopped back on the couch. She’d go talk to him later, after he’d had a little time to cool off. In the meantime, she could indulge in some Carrie Bradshaw shoe envy.
Only she couldn’t seem to concentrate…
With a heavy sigh, Buffy realized it was now too quiet. The evening just didn’t have the same appeal without her husband there to spend it with her.
Buffy clicked off the television, then dropped the remote to the couch and rose to her feet. She went straight into the bedroom, knowing without a doubt, she’d find Spike there.
She was right. He was lying on the bed, pouting. He looked so adorably forlorn, Buffy couldn’t help but smile.
Spike ignored Buffy as she came into the room, the door clicking shut behind her, but she didn’t let him deter her. Instead, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his lap.
“Why are you in here?” Spike asked. “I thought you had better things to do.”
“Better things to do than you?” Buffy replied, a teasing glint in her eye. “Never.”
Spike snorted in response.
“Aw, come on, you big baby,” Buffy said as she leaned in and nipped lightly at his neck. “I’m sorry.”
Spike mumbled something Buffy thought was probably less than nice, but she chose to ignore it. She’d learned years earlier that any other course of action only made things so much worse when he was in one of his petulant moods.
“I don’t care about the television,” Buffy told him as she flicked his earlobe with her tongue. “I’d rather help you work off some of that excess energy instead.”
“I’m not in the mood,” Spike grumbled.
Her face hidden at the side of his neck, Buffy rolled her eyes. “You’re not, huh?”
“No,” Spike replied, pointedly not turning to make eye contact with her.
Buffy pulled up, though she continued to straddle him. “And I guess there’s nothing I could do to put you in the mood?” she asked teasingly as her hands trailed down to the bottom of her t-shirt.
Spike couldn’t help the way his gaze flickered to her at the action, or the way his cock jumped beneath her when she removed her shirt and bared her firm breasts to him.
Still, he refused to give in that easily. “No. Not a thing.”
“Not even this?” Buffy asked, wriggling out of her sweatpants so she was now wearing nothing but a red silk thong.
Spike’s pupils grew larger, his cock straining further in his jeans. “No, not even that.”
Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes again. He could be so stubborn sometimes! “How about this then?” She pulled his t-shirt out from the waistband of his jeans and over his head.
“Still cross with you,” Spike replied, though Buffy could’ve sworn she saw the corner of his lips twitch up, even with his pout still firmly in place.
She leaned in, stretching herself across his chest, then slid down. Spike was unable to stop his quick intake of breath as her breasts rubbed tantalizingly against him, and Buffy smirked at the sound.
Buffy pulled up again, her hands going to his belt buckle. She undid both his belt and his button fly with the practiced ease of having this man in her bed for years. She brought his jeans down his legs, traveling the length of his lower body with them, until she pulled them off his bare feet and tossed them to the ground.
Unable to stop herself, she ran her fingers across his soles. Spike chuckled, squirming at her tickling, before he caught himself and shot her a dirty look.
Buffy smirked again.
She crawled back up his body, pressing down against him, skin to skin, as she licked and suckled at his neck. He tried to fight against his whimpers, but a few escaped, the sound of them going straight to Buffy’s core.
Her mouth trailed up from his neck to his ear, and Buffy whispered against it, her warm breath making him shiver. “You know, instead of being all broody, you could let me make it up to you.”
His eyes darkened, and Buffy knew her words had had their desired effect. How well she knew this man…
“I don’t brood,” Spike insisted vehemently, right before he flipped her beneath him and rose over her body.
The sight of him now, all anger and desire, made Buffy tremble. How had she ever wanted to spend the evening doing anything but this?
“Don’t like me fidgeting and wiggling, do you?” Spike asked, his cocky smirk now firmly back in place. “I’ll show you how much you like mewiggling.”
Buffy squealed as Spike moved downwards, hefting her legs over his shoulders, then ripping off her panties and plunging his tongue inside of her slick heat before she even had a chance to prepare herself for the onslaught of pleasure. He lapped at her inner walls, his tongue moving in ways she didn’t think should even be possible.
“Uhn…Spike!” Buffy gasped, unable to keep herself from being the twitching one now. “Wiggling…oh! Wiggling good.”
“And how about my fingers tapping, baby? Betcha you like that, too,” Spike insisted as he pulled away from her for a moment, just long enough to situate his fingers on her clit. Then his tongue was inside of her again, and Buffy decided she definitely enjoyed the tapping.
Spike feasted on his wife like a starving man being given ambrosia, and Buffy grasped the sheets of their bed in an attempt to keep from pulling out bits of his hair—again. She was so close, her body right on the edge of a precipice as Spike’s tongue moved inside of her and his fingers tapped out a steady rhythm against her swollen clitoris.
Then, he let out a low growl, the sound something only someone not quite human could make, and the vibrations it set through her body pushed Buffy tumbling right over into pleasure. She screamed, jerking uncontrollably and making the headboard of their bed slam into the wall.
Spike released her, licking at his lips as her body slumped to the mattress, limp. “Who can’t be still now?” he asked, a smug expression on his face.
Buffy looked up at him with a sleepy, sated expression. “Ass,” she replied with a smile.
“That an invitation?” Spike asked, his eyebrows waggling.
Buffy’s eyes widened, but then she mentally berated herself for being surprised by anything that came out of that man’s mouth. “No ass tonight, baby,” she told him with a shake of her head. “But you can show me what else you have that wiggles.”
“Just not in your ass?” Spike couldn’t help but tease.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “God, I married a perv. Would you just fuck me already?”
Spike threw his head back and laughed, any tension between them long since gone. “I love it when you’re bossy,” he told her, his hand going to his cock to line it up with her entrance.
“I know, I know, I’m your bossy little bint,” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes one more time even as a smile crept to her lips. “Now get on with it.”
Spike shook his head as he chuckled, dropping a quick kiss onto the tip of Buffy’s nose before he pushed forward into her welcoming body.
So many times together, and still, the feel of him inside of her again never failed to take Buffy’s breath away. Spike filled her completely, left no bit of her wanting. She wrapped herself around him, holding him as close as she could as she stroked the sweat-glistening muscles of his back.
“How…do you….like my…energy now?” Spike asked, punctuating his question with hard, firm thrusts.
“Energy good,” Buffy replied, moaning as a particularly deep thrust hit her in just the right place. “So…uhn…good.”
“Yeah, I knew it baby. You love the way I wiggle.”
“Yes!” Buffy cried out. “Oh, Spike! Keep wiggling!”
He smirked before he leaned down, his head against the crook of her neck as he sped up his thrusts, giving it to her with his full strength. The bed creaked and moaned, the headboard slapping against the wall. It amazed Buffy sometimes that they didn’t go through more beds than they already did.
Or more anything, really. She was glad no one ever asked her to explain what happened to that coat rack…
But then another orgasm was coiling inside of her, and Buffy’s only thoughts were on her husband and the way he was moving over her. She gasped, then began to keen as pleasure roared through her, erupting into sheer bliss. She dug her fingernails into Spike’s flesh, and her heel pressed against him hard enough to leave little bruises.
At the feel of her pussy clamping down around him like a silken vice, Spike groaned loudly, his whole body beginning to tremble. “Fuck… Oh, Buffy…kitten, I’m…” He trailed off with a roar, lights seeming to flash in front of him as he came.
Buffy felt boneless beneath him as Spike collapsed onto of her body, panting heavily against her hair.
After several moments, Spike looked up at her, his smirk in place again. “So, pet, how about that ass?”
Buffy gaped. “You’re…incorrigible!” she exclaimed. “And now?”
Spike’s smirk spread in a slow grin. “Oh baby, I have lots of energy.”
Buffy sighed dramatically, even as she tried to keep herself from returning the grin. Like she could let him think he could outlast her. Please… “If you must,” she replied, feigning exasperation.
She squealed as Spike picked her up and flipped her over, unable to stop from erupting into delighted laughter as he nipped and suckled at the back of her neck, deciding perhaps there were worse things than a husband with an overabundance of energy after all…
*** *** ***
Buffy settled down on the couch, ready to relax for the night in front of the television.
From beside her, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
Spike’s leg was moving and his hand was tapping…
With a small shake of her head and a private laugh, Buffy scooted up against him, draping her own legs over his to still them as she cuddled at his side.
Spike’s arms went immediately around her, and he couldn’t seem to keep his fingers from playing with her hair. Buffy sighed contentedly at his touch, a smile on her face as they watched the television together.
Maybe Spike’s fidgeting wasn’t so bad after all…
*** *** ***
A little plotless, domestic fun with Buffy and Spike. And a night in watching television no less! So pffft to you Marti Noxon! *ahem*