Chapter 4
Chapter Notes: For the record and for those of you who have seen the movie this fic is based on, this story (as far as plot/character development goes) has almost nothing to do with the movie itself. There are similar scenarios that I twist and turn to meet the story, but other than that? It’s way different. Mostly because I kind of hated how that movie ended and hated David’s character. i didn’t think they developed them that well and I found myself not really caring about them after the first 45 minutes of the film. The reason I chose this movie, however, was because I really liked the idea of how they met, how estranged they were and yet desperate for human connection. Taking that idea and a few sex scenes, I ran with it and created this monster. Just wanted to clear the air so you aren’t predicting plot points that will never happen in this story. Carry on!
Buffy walked around Spike’s living room as he made a few sandwiches. After dancing in his bedroom for a few songs, they decided to forego clothing for the rest of the day and she grinned as she watched his cute butt move around the kitchen.
“What’s that?”
Spike licked mustard off his thumb and turned around to face Buffy. She was staring at a life-size sculpture of a naked woman’s torso. “That,” he said as he walked towards her, “was a very, very long time ago.”
Buffy looked at him for a moment and then back at the sculpture. “So you’re a sculptor?”
“I’m a veritable jack of all trades, pet. Well, in relation to art I should say.”
She noticed there wasn’t a speck of dust on it. “Who was she?”
He shrugged his shoulders and went back to the kitchen to finish their sandwiches. “Someone I’ll never see again. Different life.”
Buffy had the uncomfortable feeling of jealousy welling up inside her and quickly quashed that emotion and focused on his skill. Every pore, every tiny hair was perfectly placed. “Was this a cast first or did you sculpt it by hand?”
“Plaster cast, yeah,” he shouted from the kitchen. He reappeared with two plates and two sodas and set them down on the dining room table. “Hungry?”
She grinned. “Starving.”
~*~*~*~
“Did you do these paintings, too?” Buffy was lying on her back on Spike’s bed, looking at the walls of his room that were covered with an array of canvases, painted in a similar style.
He was on his side next to her, kissing her shoulder and trailing his fingertips down her sternum. “Mmhmm.”
She stretched her arms over her head and sighed as he grazed her nipples. “They’re really good. Reminds me of Egon Schiele except less creepy.”
He propped himself up on one elbow and caressed her stomach. “You an art fan?” His tongue traced her areola.
“Mmm…yeah. Art History major, minor in photography.”
He rolled over and reached for something on his nightstand. He smoothed a winkled piece of paper over her belly. “I have a show coming up. You should come.”
She picked up the piece of paper and read it. “That’s a nice gallery. I’ve wanted to show there for a while.”
“Keep it. ‘ve got tons of those things hangin’ ‘round. Put it on your ice box so you won’t forget.”
She folded the flier and set it aside. “It’s in one month.”
“So it is,” he said, continuing his assault on her naked flesh. He paused, sensing her tension. “You don’ have to go.”
She offered him a small smile and twirled a stray lock of his hair. “We’ll see.”
He slipped his hand between her thighs and Buffy moaned as his fingers massaged her. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
~*~*~*~*~
“How is it possible to have skin this soft?”
“Just lucky, I guess. Mmm, that feels good.”
“It’s like silk. Do you bathe in cream or something?”
“Nope…just lots of moisturizer-ohhh, what are you doing?”
“Are you complaining, pet?”
“Not at all…just, gahh!”
“Mmmm, your taste is bloody addicting.”
“Spike…”
“Oh, do that again.”
“Spike!”
“That does it. I’m getting a tape recorder.”
“Don’t you dare leave this bed!”
“Bossy.”
“Tease.”
“Oh, I’m a tease, am I?”
“Oh, fuck, Spike! Yes!”
“Christ…you feel so…”
“Oh, God! Oh my God…”
~*~*~*~*~
“Are you going to fuck me against this window?”
“You wish.”
“What are you doing?”
“Quit asking bloody questions.”
Buffy rolled her eyes as Spike positioned her in the window seat. “You know, you’ve got a great view up here.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Buffy turned to look at him and rolled her eyes, smiling. “Cheesy.”
“What? You’re gorgeous. Now hold still.”
One leg stretched out across the window seat and one knee was propped up, her hair positioned to fall carelessly around her face and shoulders, exposing one bare breast. He’d been fussing with her for almost fifteen minutes. “Would you just tell me what you’re doing?”
Spike kissed her, partly to shut her up and also because he wanted to. “Mmm, those lips. Now, don’t…move…a muscle.”
She sighed and watched as he ran to his bedroom. “Don’t move,” he shouted from the bedroom and she giggled.
He came back with a large sketch pad and a hard on and stood in front of his sofa. “Hey, come back here with that thing,” she said pointing at his erection.
“Tempting…but no. And don’t move.” He sat down and crossed his feet on the coffee table and opened the sketch pad and started drawing.
“I didn’t say you could draw me.”
“And I didn’t say I cared. Now hold still or I’ll bend you over my knee,” he said winking at her as his hand moved furiously over the paper. To his surprise, she remained perfectly still. They had been making out by the window and as the sun set behind the tall buildings, a beautiful purple and orange light illuminated her skin. The artist in him couldn’t resist, so he set her up like a still life and started drawing. He made a rough outline of her form and started detailing it, relishing the ability to study her so intensely. As he was drawing her eyes, he paused. She was staring out the window with a faraway look. He truly thought she was tragically beautiful and he felt a pang of sadness. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing. Neither of them were ready for this, neither of them knew what was happening and perhaps they were just prolonging the inevitable. He started drawing again, and once satisfied that he’d captured her image, he set his pencil and pad down and walked over to her.
“Are you all done with me now?”
He smiled and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “Not yet.” Spike pressed his lips against hers and turned her so her back was against the window, spreading her legs to fall on either side of his hips. She grabbed his cock and stroked him languidly, deepening the kiss and arching into his chest as his hand slipped between her thighs. Soon, he’d entered her, placing one hand flat on the window and the other on her hip. His head lolled around on his shoulders as she squeezed him from the inside. She grabbed his ass and pulled him into her with every thrust. He hooked his hands behind her knees and quickened his pace, letting his tongue dip into her mouth, his teeth nip at her lips and his body grind against hers. He’d lost count at how many times they’d done this that day and every time it was better than the last.
~*~*~*~*~
“Good lord that’s cold!”
Spike chuckled as he slathered plaster on her stomach. “Give it a minute and keep your legs apart, luv.”
“Oh, now it feels kinda good.”
“I bet it does,” he said coyly as he smeared the white substance over her pussy, making sure every fold and every crevice was well covered. “No squirming.”
“You know, you have a lot of commands that require me to be still.”
“It’s good for you. Teaches you how to behave like a good girl.”
“Good girls don’t have sexy men rubbing plaster on their tits.”
“So they don’t.”
“Hey! Easy with the pinching.”
“But you liked it earlier,” he pouted as he removed his greedy fingers from her nipples.
“Earlier I didn’t have to stay still.”
“Touché.”
~*~*~*~*~
“It’s getting late.”
“I know, pet. Are you sleepy?”
“Kind of. But the water’s still warm so let’s stay here a while.”
“Want me to wash your hair?”
“Only if I can wash yours.”
“Hand me that sponge, your tits look painfully dirty.”
Buffy giggled. “I don’t see how. You’ve washed them three times already.”
“Had to get the plaster off, didn’t I?”
“You’re very thoughtful.”
He kissed the back of her neck and pulled her back flush against his chest, squeezing a soapy sponge over her breasts. “I’m a thoughtful kind of bloke.”
“I think you missed a spot.”
Spike gasped in mock-surprise. “Where!”
She took his hand and guided it beneath the bathwater to her pussy. “Here.”
“Oh, you’re very dirty there, aren’t you?”
“Mmhm…oh! Fuck, your fingers should be illegal.”
“It’d be more fun if they were.”
“You dangerous, bad man, you.”
“The baddest, baby.”
~*~*~*~*~
“I’m gonna come…oh god, I feel dizzy…”
“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…”
“Spike! I’m so…”
“Fuck! Oh, shit, pet…Oh shit…oh shiii—” Spike collapsed on top of Buffy in his bed, panting as his body calmed from his orgasm. “Buffy?” He patted her cheeks, worrying when he realized she’d passed out. “Buffy!” He shook her shoulders and sighed in relief when she opened her eyes.
“I just blacked out,” she giggled.
“Jesus, I almost had a heart attack,” he said smiling as he rolled onto his back next to her. She turned on her side and propped her head on his chest. “Scared me for a minute there, kitten.”
“Yeah, well…I think I’m officially closing shop downstairs. You might kill me if we do it again.”
He grinned proudly. “I’m pretty talented.”
“So full of yourself,” she said yawning. “We did have sex…how many times did we have sex today?”
“Lost count after the fifth time.”
Buffy stretched against him and he pulled the sheets over their well sated bodies. “I’m just going to rest for a bit.”
“Sure, pet,” he said kissing her forehead and turned off the lamp next to his bed. “You just rest for a while.”
“Just a few minutes,” she said sleepily.
“Mmhmm. G’night, Buffy.”
“Not goodnight.”
“Ok, whatever you say.”
In minutes, both of them fell fast asleep, wrapped in one another’s arms. When Spike awoke a few hours later, she was gone. His arm spread across the mattress and he smiled sadly.
“Good bye, Buffy.”