Chapter 19
“Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” Spike said with a strange expression as Buffy placed the newly disenchanted stone in her bag. She’d barely said a word to him when they returned to the hotel to recite the disenchantment spell and he was sensing that she was still pissed off with him. This was new territory for Spike because before he’d fallen for the Slayer, he might have intentionally pushed her buttons just to get her angry. Now, though, her reactions might not be as charming as they used to be, mainly because her anger was stemmed from something more, something deeper than mutual irritation of one’s enemy. Now she was mad at him, because he’d hurt her. And not in the fun way.
She’d gone to the bathroom, successfully locking him out as she took a shower to get ready for bed and Spike had absolutely no idea what to do. Silence he wasn’t prepared for. Being ignored hurt worse than any mean jibe she could send his way and though he’d initially been shocked, upset, and even felt a profound sense of loss when she killed Drusilla, those feelings were gone now. Replaced with a strange sense of relief that he no longer had to try to gain his sire’s affections, didn’t have to play second fiddle to Angelus, was no longer going to be their whipping boy for amusement and an object to vent their frustrations upon. He hated admitting that with Angelus out of the picture, perhaps any ties Buffy felt to him were gone, too. It was just the two of them now.
He’d never been part of something before, at least not anything worth speaking of like he was with Buffy. With Drusilla, sure, they were one hell of a team spanning the globe and causing impressive amounts of mayhem and destruction. But that was part of his nature, not part of something bigger. With Buffy, not only did he finally find someone that loved him and treated him as an equal, but he felt a sense of accomplishment that he never thought possible before.
He’d sneered and made fun and scoffed at the very idea of being a white hat, helping save the world and all that nonsense. But with Buffy at his side, fighting his own kind, he’d gotten a thrill he hadn’t felt since bagging his first Slayer. Kind of ironic when he thought about it, but Spike had long ago learned not to question the sarcastic bitch that life was.
And worse, at least to his nature, he was starting to crave those feelings of achievement. He wanted to be by her side, eating donuts with her stupid mates and doing research and fighting the evils of the world and then of course, shagging her against the nearest surface once the rush of winning filled them to bursting. Something he’d really like to do at the moment but was denied for some reason that he couldn’t find a way fix. Didn’t know how to. With Dru, he’d buy her a dolly or give her some pretty thing to feed on and he’d be right as rain with her in no time. If she was especially angry, he’d tie her up and torture her until she loved him again, just like her Daddy used to do to her. Spike would have done anything to make her happy, no matter how it might have affected him, and all that loyalty that he felt for over a century had been shifted towards a girl who should be his enemy in a matter of days.
And now he was angry. Didn’t she know how much he’d changed for her? How much more he was willing to sacrifice just to be next to her, just to feel that sense of connection that he never thought he’d find? He’d been bagging it for a week now. Hadn’t fed on a single human in the time they’d been together. And he could have! Could have ripped the throat out of the clerk at the convenience store when he bought her soup and stuffed kitties and candy and…oh, God. Spike bought stuffed kitties and candy for the sodding slayer without batting an eye. Or bashing in any skulls in the process!
What the hell had happened to him? This behavior of his went against the grain, took all his strength to suppress. At first. Fuck, his rep was buggered in the demon world now, for sure. At least he had the honor of being the sole survivor of the Aurelius line, making him top dog. Sense of pride in that, wasn’t there?
“You keep doing that and you’ll dig a trench in the carpet.” She’d come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a white towel, skin all dewy and delicious.
Spike stopped in his tracks, just then realizing he’d been pacing like a caged animal. “Was thinking,” he said, squaring his shoulders and looking impassive.
She shrugged and walked past him to the phone, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she started dialing a number.
“Who’re you callin’ at this hour?”
“Giles,” she said as she looked at the floor.
Well, fine. If she was going to keep up the silent treatment, Spike was going out for a smoke. Slamming the hotel door behind him, he walked outside and lit one up, giving the sky an angry pout as he exhaled. Women. He was already placing bets on not getting laid that night and being saddled up in the bath with his left hand and a mess of discontent. What was the point of a claim if he couldn’t read her thoughts? The claim was still new, a weakling of a thing, barely giving him glimpses of her emotions and those were few and far between. It would strengthen in time, but now it was just frustrating. He wondered if she could sense him. If she did, why the hell was she ignoring him? He was upset, too, dammit! Vamp or no, he had feelings!
He flicked his cigarette into the parking lot and walked back inside, folding his arms across his chest as he watched her hang up the phone and rise from the bed. He wasn’t going to be the first one to talk. He wasn’t. Could be just as stubborn as she was. Nope, not saying a bloody word.
“How long are you going to ignore me?” Dammit!
“What are you talking about?” she asked him as she rummaged through her bag, still ignoring him.
He let out a sharp sigh. “You. Ignoring me since the caves.”
She found a pair of cotton shorts and a cami and clutched them to her chest as she stood up and faced him. “I haven’t been ignoring you. I’m just tired after the fight.”
He pursed his lips as he watched her pull her shorts up, her towel still wrapped around her body. So she was hiding, now, too? “You’re tired.”
“Yup.” She turned around and dropped her towel to put on her cami. Once it was on, she turned back around and flinched slightly at his hard expression. “What?”
“You know, I have seen those before,” he said, gesturing to her breasts with a nod of his head and took a step forward. “A few times, actually.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed her hair brush to work out the wet tangles in her hair. “Just say what’s on your mind, Spike. I’m tired.”
“What’s on my mind?” he shouted, flinging his arms in the air at the ridiculousness of her statement. “You really want to know?”
Folding her arms across her chest, one hand clutching the hair brush and glaring at him, she said, “Yeah. Why don’t you tell me and get it over with.”
He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “Look, I know you’re pissed about Dru,” he said evenly, a small victorious smile creeping up on his face when she averted her eyes and started brushing her hair a little too hard. “Oh, that’s right,” he narrowed his eyes, “you don’t like it when Spike can read you like a book. But it was a bloody riot when you could read my thoughts, wasn’t it?”
“What do you want me to say, Spike?”
He clenched his jaw and stood right in front of her, blocking her from avoiding him any further. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this. You of all people should know that vamps are connected by blood. I spent a hundred and twenty years with the bint and you’re pissed that I felt something for her when she died! You’d be pissed either way.”
“Huh?”
“If I didn’t feel a thing, then you’d call me a soulless vampire who had no emotions whatsoever. I’d be ridiculed for not reacting, making you think that what I feel for you wasn’t real. I can’t win either way, so what’s the point?”
He got her there. She looked ashamedly at the floor. “You’re right.”
“And you know what? I’ve completely disregarded my nature for you, helped you fight the big fight, saved your hide more than once on this trip and…” he paused, tilting his head as he said, “Did you just say I’m right?”
She shyly looked up at him. “I’m not repeating it if that’s what you’re after.” She smiled softly and looked back at the floor and said quietly, “I’m not mad at you, it’s just…is it wrong that I didn’t feel anything when I killed Angel?”
His eyes widened with sudden realization. She wasn’t mad at him. She was mad at herself, the human who was supposed to have feelings and emotions and thought she had been in love at one point with the man she killed. Spike had felt something, and she didn’t. Spike, the vampire, the thing she was born to hate. With a heavy sigh, he brought one hand to her cheek and offered a kind smile.
“Buffy. You feel more than anyone I know, anyone I’ve ever known. You try so hard to do the right thing, to make everyone around you happy.” He kissed her forehead, relieved when she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.
“But I loved him. Didn’t I?”
He tried to quash the jealousy that rose within him at that, knowing that she was his now. Barely succeeding, he said, “I can’t answer that. If you don’t know, then maybe you never did.”
“I did,” she nodded against him. She’d been beating herself up for hours over the fact that she didn’t feel a damn thing for killing Angel, jealous and guilty that Spike had, when she’d accused him of being unable to feel anything. The contradictions were giving her a headache and she was afraid to talk to Spike about it, afraid that he’d say, “I told you so,” or hold it against her. But he hadn’t. “Just not…not like this.”
If her head wasn’t smothered by his chest, he would have kissed her lights out for that, but instead, he held her tighter, inhaling her scent. He was relieved that he wasn’t in the dog house and wouldn’t have to grovel for forgiveness. It was kind of nice, actually. Strange, yes. Wouldn’t count on it happening again, since he had a nasty habit of inserting his boot in his mouth and pissing the birds off. But he was thankful that for once, his significant other was upset with something that had nothing to do with him. “It’s ok, you know. Maybe you’re in shock or something. Was a big day and all. Settin’ vamps on fire, stealin’ crystals, lookin’ cute as hell. Must be exhausting.”
She giggled and looked up at him. “Such is the life of a slayer.”
He kissed her smiling face, unable to resist contact with her gorgeous mouth any longer and pulled away, leaving her panting and glassy eyed. “So you aren’t mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad at you. Sorry I was all avoidy,” she said, leaning in for another kiss but he backed away from her, shooting a warm smile her way.
“Come talk to me while I’m in the shower? Covered in battle grime, here.”
She nodded dumbly and followed him into the bathroom, then sat on the sink counter while he undressed. As he stepped beneath the spray and closed his eyes, she felt that awesome tightening in her chest and stomach that seemed to happen only when he was around. She could watch him do this for hours, she decided. The way he worked up a lather and slowly smeared his chest with fluffy, white bubbles that trailed down his front as the water trickled down and kissed every sinful curve of his body was enough to make her come just looking at him. Then he turned his back to the water and leaned his head back, straining his neck muscles and showing off the lines of his jugular and Adam’s apple. Great Zeus’ lightning, she’d snagged a hot man for a mate. As her eyes took the natural course down his body, she blushed that he was half hard. As if sensing her arousal, he said, “Know you’re lookin’.”
“Shut up,” she said with a giggle, biting her lip in mirth. “It’s not fair.”
“What?” He smiled, slowing the movement of his soapy hand down his stomach for her pleasure.
“You’re hotter than I am.”
With a sly grin, he shrugged his shoulders.
“Hey!” she shouted, tossing a roll of toilet paper at him.
He started chuckling and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “You said it, not me!”
“You didn’t have to agree with me!”
“You know you only turn me on when you yell, Buffy.” He leered at her, turning his body to the side so there was no barrier to the full-frontal view he was giving her, sliding his hand down his abdomen and wrapping his hand around his erection. And stroked up the length one time, watching her intently with heavy lidded eyes.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare. Though after a second, she did manage to lick her parched lips and let out a noise that sounded a lot like, “Guh.”
“I’m awfully dirty,” he had the audacity to say in his coy, bedroom voice while he languidly stroked his cock with soapy fingers. “Might need some help.”
“Guh.”
He chuckled silkily at her inability to speak and decided to push her even further, tilting his head to the side and dragging his bottom lip into his mouth with his tongue as his free hand trailed up his chest, still tugging on his erection with the other. If that didn’t do it, he was going to start questioning her sexual preference.
It was the lip that did it for her and she frantically stripped off her clothes, trying not to topple over when her shorts got tangled around her feet. She was grateful that he didn’t laugh because if he had, he was so getting his ass kicked when she wanted to lick it instead.
“Come on in,” he said happily, making room for her beneath the spray once she opened the glass shower door. He was startled when she turned him around so his back was to her front, pressing herself against him as her hands trailed down his back and finally found purchase on his ass.
She needed to feel his slick, soapy ass against her, needed her face buried between his shoulder blades, needed to bite him there, slide her hands around to his front and grab his cock. When she did, he moaned, dropping his head forward and reaching one hand behind him hold her more snugly against him. She kissed his neck, then bit it, squeezed and stroked his cock, panted against him as his moaning turned louder, reverberating against the tiles in the bathroom. She slid to her knees, licking up the rivulets of water on his lower back, stroking him faster, bit each globe of his ass and Spike had to brace himself on the wall with his hands when his legs started shaking.
“Fuck, baby,” he said with a groan, watching her hand work him towards madness, soap lather squishing between her fingers as she picked up the pace and his eyes widened when he felt her other hand slide between his ass. He didn’t think she’d ever do this, not that he was complaining, but she’d taken him by surprise and he could sense her hesitation when the hand on his cock stilled for a moment. But it wasn’t hesitation, it was preparation. She’d been lathering up her hand, the minx.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” she said quietly, sliding one finger inside him and started stroking his cock again. Spike almost told her that even if she did hurt him, he wouldn’t have minded but he was too busy biting his lip and swallowing gulps of air to say a word.
She didn’t know what had come over her, but her need to possess him in every way possible had taken up the forefront of her mind and she couldn’t help herself. His reaction aided her further, gave her the confidence to continue and she stood up again, her finger joined by a second and her grip on his cock tightening as she pressed her body against him once more. God, the noises he made.
But Spike wasn’t to be dominated for very long, no matter how amazing it felt, and with super human speed, he’d flipped their positions, pressed her tits against the glass door, wrapped a hand around her throat and another around her pelvis to arch her back, and slammed inside of her, breathing against her ear.
“Wow!” she shouted with surprise, finishing it with a moan as one hand rose to grab the top of the door to hang on while he thrust long and hard inside of her. It was almost hard to make any noise with the strain on her neck as he craned it backwards but it only intensified the sensations. The hand at her pelvis moved down to her clit but instead of stroking her, he cupped her hard and lifted her up slightly to drive in at another angle. If he wasn’t holding her so tightly against him, she’d have fallen as her toes barely touched the bottom of the tub.
Spike pulled her head back a bit further, licking her neck and raising his eyes to the mirror above the sink that was directly across from them, watching her nipples flatten on the glass door with every thrust of his hips, darting them to the extreme arch of her back as she strained to keep him clenched inside her. She was emitting these husky, desperate, throaty moans that drove him crazy, her slick, hot pussy gripping him tighter as she came closer to climax.
He’d never fucked a woman so sweet, so fierce and willing like Buffy, never had it better, had never wanted to go so deep that she could feel it in her throat but he wanted to fill her from top to bottom with his want for her. So he pivoted his hips with every stroke, slamming her into the glass each time, grunting as she gave it right back to him.
“Fuck…I…love…you.” He nipped at her throat over the claim mark he’d given her, feeling every muscle in his body tighten and beg to surround her, his arms around her body clutching her incredibly close and when she started wailing with her release, saying his name over and over like he was a god, his fangs sank into her throat, triggering one fuck of an orgasm, speeding up his thrusts even more.
“Spike! Oh, God! Love you! Love you!” The last word was almost sung as she shrieked and shook against him, gasping and grunting as his fangs and cock sucked out every last bit of pleasure she had left. Her cheek pressed against the glass and she smiled, catching her breath as his hips jerked forward one last time and he pulled his fangs out of her neck, then licked it closed as he lowered her to the ground.
Her legs were useless and she put all her weight on the glass, sighing sweetly when his wet hands slid up and down her back and he placed soft kisses against her shoulders. “Remind me never to ignore you ever again,” she said in a sleepy, smiling voice.
He chuckled against her cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her off the glass. “Need me to carry you?”
“For about two days.”
He lifted her up into his arms, turned off the taps and stepped out of the tub. “You aren’t sleepy, are you?”
She could hear the pathetic pout in his voice but she was too busy smiling and swooning as he dried her off. “You wore me out.”
“The hell I did,” he smiled. “You’re just suffering the afterglow.”
“Watch me suffer,” she said with a lazy stretch as she raised her arms for him to lift her once more after he’d dried her off.
Instead of lifting her, he leaned forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth and slid a hand between her legs, finding how wet and ready she was for another go. She moaned and he chuckled, teeth nipping her nipple.
“Ok, so I could totally go again.”
“Knew it.”
She yelped as she was suddenly lifted off her feet and carried to the bed. As he lay her down and made a home for his face between her legs, she decided that there were much worse things to suffer from.
Like going home to the scoobies and explaining how she went off on a vacation with a master vampire and basically got hitched. She was not looking forward to this. She laced her fingers in his hair, sucking in air as he latched onto her clit with his lips and said, “Let’s never leave this hotel.”