Chapter 18
Therapists.
What the hell was up with therapists and throw pillows? This lady, rather…this very old woman who called herself a therapist had one large overstuffed couch with five throw pillows on each side. When you have to shuffle pillows around before you sit, it’s a good sign that someone’s overdone it. Where was the big chaise lounge that she’d seen in the movies? You know…the big long chair that you laid on while the ‘Doc’ fixed you up after a good cry or even better, hypnosis! Oh, she hoped this lady had one of those cool pocket watches! But…there was no chair. Only pillows and apple scented potpourri, apparently, and a dry erase board. If this turned into a motivational seminar or a pyramid scheme, Buffy was going to be very disappointed.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Um,” Buffy mumbled, watching as Mrs. Taylor crossed her nude pantyhose covered legs and tilted her head. “I was thinking about watches.”
That was the other thing! Buffy had been sitting in her office for five minutes and the woman hadn’t said a word! Was she trying to fake her out? She didn’t know, so she just sat quietly, staring at the box of tissues between them on the table.
“Would you like to tell me why you’re here?” Was that a fake smile? Buffy thought it might be one, she couldn’t tell. But she’d keep an eye on her just in case the old woman started getting shifty.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she said honestly. “I-I mean, I do…but not really. I could probably deal with this on my own but Spike said I should talk to someone about it.”
Mrs. Taylor was contemplating this for a moment with a slight smile. “Who’s Spike?”
“He’s my boyfriend.” Buffy tilted her head as Mrs. Taylor wrote something down, craning her neck a bit to see what she’d written only to quickly look away when she raised her head.
“How long have you been together?”
“I guess about…two months? Maybe three…you know? I don’t know! Shouldn’t that be something I should know? I-I mean, don’t most girls memorize the day they met their boyfriend to celebrate anniversaries and things like that?”
“Do you think it’s important?”
“I guess not,” she frowned.
The woman was silent again. Waiting. Watching…possibly looking for flaws or a weak spot to strike at when Buffy least expected it! She adjusted the hem of her shirt and remained silent.
“You can talk to me, Buffy. I get paid to do this you know.”
Buffy couldn’t help but think this lady looked just like her grandmother. Could she have this conversation with Nana Summers? “I guess I don’t know where to start.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me why you think Spike wanted you to seek therapy?”
“Because I was…something bad happened about three weeks ago and he thinks I’m depressed.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know…I’ve never really thought about it. Maybe.”
Mrs. Taylor wrote something down again. “What happened three weeks ago?”
Buffy cleared her throat and laughed nervously. “Can we not go there yet?”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she offered a warm smile. “You’re establishing trust. I understand that.”
“Thanks,” she smiled awkwardly, “I-I just…I don’t think I’m ready to talk about that. Are you going to make me take drugs?”
She laughed. “No, Buffy. I’m a therapist not a psychiatrist and I’m also one of the few who detests antidepressants.”
This eased her somewhat. She’d convinced herself that this woman would write her a prescription for Prozac and send her on her way. She didn’t want that at all. “You don’t agree with antidepressants?”
“In some cases I think there are people who need them, but I would bet that most can overcome their problems through therapy.”
Aha! There’s the angle! She just wants me to keep coming back so she can buy more orchid print throw pillows! I’m onto your game, missy!
“How did you and Spike meet?”
Buffy smiled with embarrassment. “We met at a party. I caught him staring at me and then he handed me a towel in the bathroom. It went downhill from there,” she giggled. This old lady might not be too keen on what happened after that.
“And are things serious or is this a casual thing?”
“It’s serious,” she said with wide eyes. “Of the very variety. And boy, did I resist it.”
“Why?”
“Because…because I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I’ve never had one before.”
Mrs. Taylor found this to be interesting, apparently, as she wrote something down on the fucking clip board. What was she writing? “How old are you, Buffy?”
“Twenty five.”
“And you’d never had a relationship before? Never dated anyone in high school or college?”
“Nope. I mean, I fu-slept! I slept with guys before, but it wasn’t ever anything serious.” Oh, she hoped her almost f-bomb wouldn’t offend her. She really needed to talk to Spike about curbing his sailor mouth. It was rubbing off on her. However, Mrs. Taylor didn’t bat an eye. Maybe she was used to it.
“Would you consider your behavior normal?”
Buffy folded her arms across her chest. “For me? Yes. For others? Not so much I guess? I’ve lost a few friends because of it, but they just don’t understand me so who needs ‘em, right?”
“You don’t think you need friends?”
Buffy didn’t like where this was going. Besides, wasn’t she here to talk about the Tony Incident? Oh yeah…she wasn’t ready for that. “Well, sure, I guess. But I’ve been fine without them. A-and it’s not like I don’t have any friends. I have Spike and…you know. It’s cool, though. I’m kind of a loner anyway.” She shrugged her shoulders in a way she hoped looked convincing.
“Why do you think your promiscuity has damaged or ended your friendships in the past?”
“There’s nothing wrong with having sex with multiple partners as long as you’re safe.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Buffy crossed her legs and looked at the therapist’s framed awards on the wall. “How long have you been a therapist?”
Mrs. Taylor sighed quietly and adjusted her skirt. “Buffy, did you come here to talk about me or about you?”
“Fine,” she huffed. She hated when people made valid points. “Most of the girlfriends I’ve had, which there haven’t been many, but the ones I had didn’t trust me around their boyfriends and they just sort of…fizzled out of my life. I would never sleep with their boyfriends though, never. I guess they just thought that since I slept around that I didn’t have principles. I have principles! I have buckets of principles! Like, I’d never have sex with a married man!”
“I’m not condemning you for your choices, Buffy. You don’t have to justify yourself. I’m trying to understand why you feel that friendships aren’t important. They are. Friends can give us an outside perspective on things that we might not have realized. We’re social creatures and having a friend reassure you when you’re down or bring you comfort is an essential part of life. A boyfriend can be your friend as well, but who do you talk to when things go awry with him?”
“You?” She shrunk into the couch, looking sheepish and then rolled her eyes. “Ok, ok…I know what you’re saying. The truth is, I get tired of hearing the lectures and I’d rather be able to live my life the way I want without having to hear it from someone how wrong it is. Guys screw girls all the time and no one makes a stink about it. But I’m automatically a whore for even entertaining the idea. How lopsided is that?”
“What changed?”
Buffy’s eyebrows lowered as she gave her a confused look. “I don’t follow you.”
“Well, you’ve been with Spike for two, maybe three months now. What changed?”
“I fell in love. Simple as that.” And it was that simple for Buffy. She’d finally found someone who cared about her in such an intense way, found a man who constantly kept her on her toes, kept her guessing, kept her wanting more, wanting to see just what was on the other side of the fence.
“How’s the sex?” Mrs. Taylor asked this so casually, as if she might have asked if she’d ever eaten lobster before.
“Uh,” she blushed, a gesture the therapist found incredibly interesting, considering how openly she talked about her sexual tendencies, “It was great. At first. God, it was great,” her eyes darted to a nonexistent point in the room as she recalled several very intimate moments with the bleached blond. “I’d never felt anything like that before…like I’d connected with him, you know? And I felt that the very first time. I craved him, thought about him constantly. And we couldn’t get enough of each other,” she smiled wistfully. “I think we had sex ten times one day. I blacked out by the end of it. Is this…am I saying too much?”
“Not at all,” the therapist smiled. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Buffy. Not much shocks me anymore.”
“He’s just…well, he’s fantastic in bed. It can be sweet and tender, or nasty and hard or just…fun. And it didn’t take anything to get me in the mood if he was around. He could brush up against me innocently and I’d want to tear his clothes off.”
“But not anymore,” she said with a sympathetic smile when Buffy nodded shyly. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”
“Almost a month.”
“And you’ve been together two months. Maybe three.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, covering her face with her hands before she raked them through her hair with a groan. “I can’t believe he’s still with me.”
“Does he love you?”
“Yes. He really, really does. I mean what kind of guy stays with a girl that’s just been raped after only knowing her for…”
“Aha. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Shit. “Well, that wasn’t exactly how I wanted to segue into it…”
“Segues are overrated,” she smiled kindly…just before she pushed the box of tissues across the table.
~*~*~*~
Buffy saw Mrs. Taylor twice a week and had been for the past two weeks. She felt slightly better, even though she laughed when she gave her some ‘reading material’ to go over in her spare time between sessions. Who actually bought that self-help crap, anyhow?
Apparently, Buffy did. She consumed it, started reading any and everything she could on the internet, finding that there was an odd feeling of belonging when she read other women’s testimonials about similar experiences. It was slightly empowering to know that she was taking charge of her life and that she could, one day, find herself again. She had a ways to go from recovery, but was starting to feel the beginning of hope, tiny little balls of light that were almost within her reach. She’d take one look at Spike and want to try that much harder. He’d been so patient with her and she didn’t know why he stayed with her, but she would be eternally grateful that he had because she couldn’t do this on her own. She tried to be more affectionate with him, forced herself, really…and realized just how much she’d missed his touch. Little things like playing with his hair, or laying her head in his lap while they watched a movie. It was the intimate things she was still afraid of, but he never pushed, never asked. And she knew it was driving him up the wall.
After the third week of therapy, Buffy was starting to notice a few things. Things that she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Things she’d been forcing herself not to look at for six weeks now. And that thing happened to be about ten feet away from her, covered in sweat.
Spike purchased a crunch bar, one of those doo-hickies you put up in the span of a door frame at the very top and you could do pull ups, or stick your feet in the straps and hang upside down while you did crunches. He was only wearing a pair of thin cotton exercise shorts, hanging upside down and grunting as he bent at the waist and dropped back down in repetition. She lost count after fifty and simply watched him in awe, watched his muscles contract and release with every movement, watched his body become more and more damp with perspiration. The sounds he made were very similar to the sounds he made right before he came. That tense, growling moan, desperate to get over the edge…and fuck, she was about to hyperventilate.
Spike let out a painful moan as his knuckles dangled above the floor. “Fuck me! That was intense!”
You’re telling me. “Can you get down?”
“Yeah,” he panted, “just…need a second.”
He took a shower after that.
It didn’t get any easier, though, because as soon as he was sparkling clean, he slipped on a pair of jeans and walked into the kitchen to grab some water. Normally, this wouldn’t have been an issue, except that these jeans he’d been wearing for three days straight which meant they were nicely broken in and hung low on his slim hips. As he sucked on the water bottle, he walked into the living room where Buffy sat, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “What are you up to today, luv?”
But she really didn’t hear him because she was staring at the faint trail of curls that started just below his navel and disappeared into his jeans, the deep indentation of the muscles at his hips and the droplet of water that crept away from the bottle and landed on his sternum, rolling down ever so slowly in a way her tongue might have done over a month ago. “Hm?”
Spike tilted his head and took another swig of water. “You all right?”
She nodded with a small smile as she chewed on her thumb nail.
He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her for a minute before he turned around and opened the doors of his entertainment center. “Feel like a movie or somethin’?” His head twisted over his shoulder to look at her.
God, had his back always been that sexy? And why hadn’t she noticed how broad his shoulders were before? Damn you jeans! Damn you for hiding that ass!
“Buffy? Hello?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry,” she blushed, shaking her head. “Yeah, movie sounds good.”
“Right then, let’s see what we’ve got,” he said as he squatted down and looked through the stack of DVD’s he’d rented. She whimpered. He was spouting out movie titles, but she didn’t hear. All she could focus on was Spike, his black chipped nails, his dark rimmed eyes, his perfectly coifed hair, the thick ringed chain around his neck, his Mother. Fucking. Muscles. She wanted that power back, to take control of what she wanted, but she was scared to death that she’d screw it up half-way through and freak out again. But the fact that she was craving him like she had before was a damn good sign and maybe she should just quit thinking about it and do what she wanted. Baby steps and all that.
After he’d selected a movie and put it in the DVD player, he came to sit beside her, propping his long legs up on the coffee table and draping his arms across the back of the couch. She curled up against his side with her head in the crook of his shoulder, sighing when he kissed her on the forehead and wrapped one arm around her. Ok, this was good. They were snuggly and comfy on the couch, Spike was immediately invested in the movie and Buffy’s hands were curled beneath her chin as she chewed on her bottom lip and debated what the hell she was going to do. His lean stomach was right in front of her, taunting her, calling her name and when he crossed one foot over the other and lifted his hips slightly to get more comfortable, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and gazed at the gap that had formed in the waistband of his jeans. The gap, that was just prominent enough for her to slide a hand right down the front of his jeans.
She placed one hand on his left breast, flattening her fingers and closed her eyes. She could do this.
“Oh, come on,” Spike groaned, “You woke up in a bloody padded cell, you git! It’s an institution, what the bloody hell do you think it is?”
The low grumbling of his voice startled her, pulling her out of her reverie for a moment as he cursed the television screen. Her hand went a little lower, resting on his rib cage.
“Oh, how convenient, their memory’s been erased,” he rolled his eyes. “This bitch can’t act her way out of a paper bag. I like that Jack fella though, don’ you, luv?”
“Yeah,” she said as she swallowed a lump in her throat, “he’s pretty good.”
She was thanking the gods that Spike couldn’t shut up during a movie. It was giving her the courage to keep moving forward, since he was obviously distracted and had no idea what she was doing. With a deep breath, she trailed her fingers down his abdomen, gently scratching his taut skin. She felt his chest vibrate against her cheek as he hummed his approval. The combination of that low, sexy noise and his fingers delicately scratching the back of her neck made her heart rate increase. Almost there…she played with the tiny hairs below his navel and felt his body stiffen beneath her as he took a sharp intake of breath, stilling his hand at the nape of her neck. When she made no move to go lower, he exhaled and squeezed her shoulder. She saw his toes curling when she dipped the tip of her pointer finger below the waistband of his jeans, moving it from hipbone to hipbone, feeling her head rise and fall as he started breathing heavily. Buffy bit her bottom lip with a smile, watching the bulge between his legs increase in size when she pushed the button through the hole. Spike made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, gripped the couch cushion with his right hand and rubbed her back with his left, exhaling warm breath onto her forehead as he panted.
Buffy could feel that sense of control return; that need to turn him on and bring him off, that power she felt every time he grew hard from her ministrations. As she slid her hand beneath the denim and scratched at his curls, the movement slid his zipper down further and Spike whimpered, dropping his head on the back of the couch with a grateful moan. It had been nearly six weeks since she’d touched him, six long, awful weeks and she had every intention of making it up to him. It might not be the whole shebang, but it was a huge step for her, one she hoped he appreciated. And of course he would, especially when she pushed his jeans down his hips and exposed his thick shaft, pulsing slightly as it became even more erect. His cock was a thing of beauty, thick and long and creamy white, veined and silky smooth, just like him. She must have been staring at it for too long because Spike stirred beneath her with a sad little plea spilling from his mouth. She smiled as she kissed his nipple and traced the underside of his shaft from base to tip, causing him to shudder.
“Oh, Buffy,” he whispered, kissing her on the temple and hissing as her tiny fingers wrapped around the head of his penis.
She sat up slightly, slowly dragging her hand up and down the length of him and watched him as he licked his lips and closed his eyes. His chest was heaving and his feet were twisting and rubbing against each other, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he mumbled his praise under his breath.
“Does that feel good?” she said with a coy smile.
He opened his eyes and looked at her with such awe, reaching his hand towards her face and stroked her cheek softly. “Please kiss me.”
She smiled sweetly and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his as her hand worked him at an unhurried pace. She moved her lips over his slowly, brushing them from side to side in a teasing caress while her thumb rolled over the tip of his cock. He gasped against her mouth and she pounced, consuming his lips in a powerful, hungry kiss that made his brain malfunction. God, she missed this, missed the taste of him, the feel of his warm tongue against hers, his rapid exhalations tickling her cheeks as his head tilted to devour her. Buffy tightened her grip on his cock, flicked her tongue against his lips before she pulled back and smiled at his blissful face.
“Oh, fuck I love you,” he moaned, closing his eyes once more as she placed warm, open mouthed kisses on his neck and chest. She released him from her grip and slid off the sofa onto her knees and tugged his jeans off. She placed both hands on his knees and pushed them apart as she looked up at him. His eyes were wide with anticipation, his hands tightening into fists as he waited. Upon the first long lick of his length, he fell apart, going slack on the couch as she took him fully in her mouth. She loved him so much, loved every single inch of him, loved his hands that tentatively stroked her hair as she stimulated him with her tongue, loved his voice as it praised her every move, his eyes as they struggled to remain open and watch her, his taste…his flavor. This was the only man she’d ever please in this way again, the only one she’d ever desire and he loved her just as much as she loved him. There was only tenderness, only love, only him.
Spike was close. She knew when the left hand started twitching and his moans turned raspy and thick. She milked him with her hand and her mouth, moaning as she found herself enjoying it almost as much as he did.
“Buffy, I’m…”
“I know,” she said as she came up for air, stroking him faster, watching him intensely and caressing his sac with her free hand. When she felt them tighten, she quickly took him in her mouth again, wanting to taste his release, wanting all of it inside her. His hips lifted off the couch as he roared a goofy moan, obviously overwhelmed as the tension spilled, quite literally, out of him. He was smiling as he came, shouting his favorite curse word and Buffy almost giggled around his cock but she refrained and sucked him until there was nothing left. Spike emitted a loud, euphoric sigh, lying limp on the couch. She crawled over him and straddled his waist, kissing his neck and cheeks as he weakly patted her arms.
She sat back on his thighs and rubbed his chest, smiling proudly at him. “Hey, zombie,” she said with a giggle and shook his shoulders, “how you doin’ down there?”
His eyes remained closed but he smiled and chuckled. “I’m goo.”
“You are, huh?” She nipped his throat and his arms wrapped around her waist.
“Gimmie five minutes and you’ll be a happy girl.”
She pulled back and kissed him. “I am a happy girl.”
He furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “You sure?”
She nodded. “Baby steps.”
He gave her a sad smile and brushed her hair out of her face. She kissed him gently, sighing happily against his mouth.
“What, pray tell, brought that on, kitten?”
She giggled and bit her lip. “Crunches.”
He waggled his eyebrows as the tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”
She gasped and swatted his shoulders. “William Pratt!”
He was laughing too hard to care and he grabbed her hands and pulled her forward for a searing kiss. “You love it.”
“Bastard.”
“Lovable bastard.”
“Uh huh.”
“I love you, Buffy.”
“You better.”
A/N: Yes, the movie they were watching was “Shadow Puppets”, the crappy James Marsters horror flick. God, that movie was bad but he was in his underwear so I couldn’t resist. I thought it would be funny to mention it here. And yes, the next chapter is the end. 🙁