Part Five: Music and Passion
Nights like this, Buffy wondered if the term ‘day off’ had been made up by a practical joker. It would certainly explain why her graduating class was currently dancing the night away with their respectful honeys, not knowing and likely uncaring that she was currently in one of their town’s many cemeteries as Spike zipped her up.
“You’re sure the other one’s dead?”
“Positive. Turn ‘round. Lemme see you.”
An aggravated sigh rumbled through her throat. “One night. One lousy night. That’s all I ask for. And do I get it? No. Of course not. And you ask yourself why. My name would be Buffy, that’s why. And I am of the Chosen, and thus must eradicate this world from all its evilness.”
She felt him grin behind her. “Hopefully not all its evilness.”
“I’m tempted.”
“Oi!”
“No offense. It’s just…hellhounds?” She whimpered, finally turning so he could inspect her. “It’s prom night and I’m in the graveyard. What does that say to you?”
But Spike wasn’t paying attention. He ran his eyes down the length of her, a grin tickling his lips. “Mmmm,” he murmured. “You’re gorgeous.”
Buffy pouted, raising a hand to inspect the up-du on which she had wasted a good hundred dollars on. “I’m a wreck. My hands are dirty, my hair is ruined, and I’m pretty sure I got hellhound blood on my dress.”
He shook his head and tsked. “Vanity, vanity.”
“It’s the prom! It’s a twentieth-century girly thing that you will never understand.” She sighed, placing a hand on her chest to compose herself. “All right. A few deep breaths and I’m miraculously over it.”
“You look smashing.”
“Do not.”
“That dress does you proper.” He licked his lips in approval. “You make it, all right.”
“Stop.”
“What?”
“You’re trying to make me not aggravated.”
Spike shrugged and flashed a grin. “And doesn’t that make me a horrible person? I’m also telling you you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, that I’m impossibly the luckiest bloke in the world, and that I better hurry and change so we can get you over to your dance to make sure that every wanker in proximity curses me for my fortune while upstagin’ every chit there is to upstage. Savvy?”
There was a long pause. Buffy simply stared at him.
He shifted. “What?”
She stared a minute longer before smiling. “You’re so sweet.”
He shrugged again and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I’m honest. You’re so divine and you don’t even know it. My exquisite girl. Now…do you know how to tie a necktie?”
She chuckled and held out a hand. Spike made quick work of his clothes—shedding his duster and shirt and smirking when she ogled his chest.
“Slayer,” he said as he began fitting on the tux. Yes, Spike had gotten a tux. Without needing to be told to, without complaint, and he was putting it on for her right now. And giving her quite the show. “You better put that tongue back in your mouth if you fancy getting to this dance of yours.”
“Mmm,” she said, almost forgetting she’d been in a bad mood just a few seconds ago. “You look very yummy.”
Spike grinned. “I know you’re yummy, pet.”
“Evil.”
“Evil can be yummy, too.” He smoothed his hands down himself, then grabbed and pulled her close. “Give us a taste.”
She grinned but shook her head. “Down boy. Later.”
He broke into his glorious pout. “Come on. Just a little taste? Little sampler?” He lowered his head to her throat and inhaled. “You smell heavenly.”
“Sweat and blood. Yeah. Heavenly.”
“Hello, vampire.”
Buffy jabbed him in the ribs. “You weren’t supposed to agree!”
He grunted but the sound became a chuckle. “You smell like Buffy,” Spike explained. “Can’t get much better than that. Vanilla, powder, and…” One of his hands pressed against her then, too fast for her to catch before it was rubbing her pussy through the satin of her dress, and her mind went too blank to give a damn. “Mmm…just as I thought. Wet. Naughty girl. Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.”
“Spike…”
“Can I have my taste now?”
But he didn’t wait for her answer before taking her mouth in a hard kiss. One that made her wonder just how much she’d regret missing her prom if she decided it was just another casualty of her slayer life. Except slaying vamps and doing vamps weren’t exactly the same thing, but she wouldn’t have the latter if it weren’t for the former.
Spike answered for her when the pulled apart, smiling into her eyes. “Right then. Let’s get you to that dance.”
“You still wanna go?”
“You do, love, so yeah. I do too.”
Maybe one day she would stop warming all over when he said things like that, but she kinda hoped not.
“Okay.”
*~*~*
The Sunnydale gym was hopping when they finally made their grand entrance, the lighting reminding Spike of every 80s movie Drusilla had forced him to sit through. But the look at Buffy’s face, the glow behind her eyes somehow made everything worth it. She turned to him and flashed a smile that made his knees do funny things.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Nothing to thank me for, sweets.”
“You’ve made my magic night all magicky, even with the unscheduled world-saveage and the bitchiness that was me in the graveyard.”
“Well, serves the PTB right for tryin’ to muck up my girl’s special night.”
“I notice how you very decided not to add, ‘Oh, Buffy, honey. You are in no way bitchy. Just neglected and misunderstood.’”
Spike smirked at that. “Well now,” he said. “That would be lyin’.” She whacked his arm, and he wrapped his own around her middle and drew her near to caress her mouth with his. “You’re right, though,” he murmured. “You deserve a night off. You do so much for this pissant town.”
“Now you’re just trying to play your sweet card so you get laid tonight.”
“Not entirely.” Spike pulled back a little and rocked on his heels. “It working?”
“Believe me, all you had to do was put on that tux.”
“It’s more a suit, actually.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t care what it is. Looks damn fine.”
He grinned. “Naturally.”
Her eyes sparkled with that familiar fire, but before she could retort, they were ambushed by Willow and Oz. It pleased him to see her here; Red was his personal favorite of all the Slayer’s friends. She seemed content as long as Buffy was content. And the bloke at her side was equally okay, in Spike’s book. His being a wolf seemed to bless him with an appreciation for all things otherworldly.
“Buffy!” the redhead gushed. “You look awesome!”
Buffy beamed at her friend. “Thanks. So do you.”
Spike nudged her. “Told you.”
Willow turned to him with more of the same. “Spike. Very suave.”
At that, the Slayer waved a hand. “Don’t encourage him. He knows he looks good.” She grumbled and shook her head. “Ten minutes sans mirror privileges and you look good enough to eat.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “I am good enough to eat.”
Willow snickered. “I see what you mean. No more complimenting Spike.”
“Oi!”
“He looks good,” Oz observed, shrugging.
Spike offered a sober nod of solidarity. “You too, mate.”
Buffy smirked. “Should we leave you two alone?”
Oz shook his head with a grin. “Nah. He’s not really my type. Not much for blondes, natural or otherwise.” He held up a hand. “No offense.”
“Trust me, mate, none taken,” Spike replied. “I would say you’re too short, but that’d be a personal remark.”
As he expected, Buffy elbowed his ribs.
“See?” He turned to her. “And ow. Watch the goods, love. Remember, I might have super strength, but I’m not quite up to slayer par.”
Willow’s eyes lit up. “You could become, Super Spike, the Slayer Layer! A-and have that Superman ‘S’ engraved on your shirt while wearing stylish tights.” When this didn’t earn the laughter she’d obviously expected, she flushed and glanced down. “Well…I thought it was funny.”
Buffy cocked her head. “Mmmm…tights. The image is oddly appealing.”
“Bloody perfect. You’ve given her ideas.”
“You can go with your patented red and black,” Willow said with a shrug.
Oz smiled and wrapped an arm around the redhead. “She’s quite industrious, isn’t she?”
Buffy nodded. “On really scary levels.” Without taking her eyes off her friends, she grabbed Spike by the necktie and gave it a good tug. “I’m gonna go check out the refreshments. Looks like they’re about to start with the awards. I wanna step to the side before everyone goes all wonky with the cheers and whatnot.”
Spike arched an eyebrow. “Guess I’m comin’ too?”
She dinged his tie once for good measure. “Yup.”
“Woof bloody woof. Lead the way, Sweets.”
Oz’s eyes narrowed. “If I were a lesser man, I would take offense to that.”
“Well, no offense, mate, but if you were a lesser man, you’d be three bloody inches tall.”
There was another jerk on his tie. Buffy beseeched him with an imploring look. “Come.”
“Here? Now? Can we at least go to the loos? It’s a little more private, I’d wager.”
Willow’s eyes went wide and she turned pink in record time, tugging at her boyfriend’s shoulder. “Oz! We should find Xander. He’s banking for the Class Clown Award…and…you know…moral support.”
“Class Clown? Stay Puft’s a bloody shoo-in.” Spike turned to Buffy again. “They actually have rewards for that sort’ve thing?”
“It’s a silly high school thing,” Buffy explained, snickering as the Willow dragged Oz away in a hurry. “Look, you scared her off.”
He shrugged. “She’ll be back later.”
“And you’ll scare her away again, later.”
Another shrug. “I’m just being myself.”
“Ah. Very frightening.”
He smirked, she smiled, and life was good.
Damn good.
Giles and Wesley were loitering near the refreshment stand. They cast Buffy and Spike nearly identical glances of disapproval but didn’t otherwise comment on their presence. It had been a couple of weeks since the Spike stopped by the library to announce that yes, he was dating the Slayer. Yes, he knew they would not like it, and no, he didn’t give a bloody damn. And that was the end all of that. He knew that Buffy had likely received a good scolding, but she denied it to this day. She’d also asked him not to accompany her, saying it would be better if she dealt with Giles on her own. He’d agreed, though he hadn’t liked it. The talking to she’d received had likely been one for the books.
And yet, Spike hadn’t received nearly as much hostility as he would have wagered. He didn’t know if it due to the fact that no recent citizen deaths were his fault, the Slayer’s urging, or the fact he had done nothing but help since arriving in Sunnydale—and quite frankly, as long as the watchers didn’t bother him, he didn’t rightly care. Either way, Buffy had been nothing but open about their relationship, and the only person whose opinion mattered was her, anyway.
Spike poured his girl a glass of punch, nodding cordially at the selected chaperones. Wesley’s surly expression melted and he offered a wave. Giles, however, did not, and when Wesley saw he was alone in the friendly greeting, he swallowed and dropped his hand to his side.
A chuckle rumbled through Spike’s chest. “Bloody typical.”
Buffy turned to him. “What?”
“Your old man has that ‘why did I leave my stake at home’ look about him.”
She offered a weak smile, then waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, I don’t think so. He likes you.”
Spike just looked at her.
“Okay, so he hates you with the burning, fiery passion of a thousand suns. His loss.” She cuddled into his side. The slightest touch of her skin had the power to fill his long-dead veins with hope and song. In just a few short weeks, she had turned him into an all-out wanker.
And such was just fine with him, because the wanker had the girl, and that was all there was to it.
Speaking of wankers, he caught sight of Xander standing apprehensively near Willow and Oz, the boy’s attention glued to the stage. The next minute, the reward for Class Clown was given to some bloke named Jack Mayhew, and evidently, the loss was a major blow to Harris’s ego. Spike watched with amusement and shook his head.
“Guess not a shoo-in after all.”
“Awww. Xan’s gonna be in a funk for the rest of the night.” Buffy made a face. “He was already edgy ‘cause he had to take Anya as his date.”
“Anya?”
“I told you about her. Ex-vengeance demon type.”
“Ah.” He nodded, throwing back a mouthful of punch. “Right. First Cordelia, then the great avenger of scorned women against all things manly. The boy sure knows how to pick them.”
“Well, as he said, it was either her or the sock-puppet of love…or something equally disturbing.”
“Sock-puppet of love, eh? Bloody toss-up.” He chuckled off her look, drawing her near so that he could nibble on her lips, uncaring if he was in full view of the watchers or not. “I love you, sweetheart.”
Buffy smiled at him before nodding, leaning in to kiss him again. “I know.”
And still, nothing more. That was all right. He could wait.
The air sliced again with the interference of the microphone. Though this time, the interruption was of interest.
“We have one more award to give out,” a short, nervous boy announced. “Is Buffy Summers here tonight? Did she, um…”
Almost immediately, the crowd seemed to part and center on them, and Buffy tensed against him at the attention. Spike merely grinned, seizing the opportunity to snuggle her closer. Best to stake his claim on the catch of the night while everyone was looking.
“Knew they’d save the best for last, baby.”
She shot him a worried look. “I don’t even wanna—”
“This is actually a new category,” the little bloke at the mic announced. “First time ever. I guess there were a lot of write-in ballots, and, um, the prom committee asked me to read this.” He shuffled a bit and pulled out an index card. “‘We’re not good friends. Most of us never found the time to get to know you, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t noticed you. We don’t talk about it much, but it’s no secret that Sunnydale High isn’t really like other high schools. A lot of weird stuff happens here.’”
Weird stuff. Bloody understatement of the year.
At that, there were several random outbursts from the crowd.
“Zombies!”
“Hyena people!”
“Snyder!”
The last earned a snort of laughter from the Slayer’s peers. Spike tried not to take it personally that crashing Parent Teacher Night didn’t make the list.
The guy at the mic smiled and quickly turned his attention back to his card. “‘But, whenever there was a problem or something creepy happened, you seemed to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by you or helped by you at one time or another. We’re proud to say that the Class of ’99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history.’”
The crowd burst into applause at that. Spike almost laughed aloud. Though he was busy bursting with pride, that was hardly something to advertise.
“‘And we know at least part of that is because of you,’” the little guy concluded. “So the senior class offers its thanks, and gives you, uh, this.” He produced a multicolored, glittering, miniature umbrella with a small metal plaque attached to the shaft. “It’s from all of us, and it has written here, ‘Buffy Summers, Class Protector.’”
A lasting applause broke once more, several catcalls sounding the air. Buffy looked thoroughly stunned, her eyes shining with tears, and turned to him in awe, as though he could procure a speech on demand.
Spike grinned and nudged her subtly toward the stage. “Go on, sweetheart.”
And she did. As she approached to accept her reward, he swelled with something greater than pride. Admiration, respect, all of the above. Everything he should rally against, she represented. The Slayer, the Class Protector, Buffy Summers.
He should hate her. He should hate himself. But he didn’t.
He was just bloody thankful she had come here with him. Him. The last bloke on the planet who deserved her, but was willing to give up anything to try.
All he could hope was that that was enough.
*~*~*
They were dancing. Etta James was belting out the lyrics to “At Last.” And he knew of what she sang.
The night had gone surprisingly well. Even after their war of glares, Giles had made a point to greet them and even managed to treat Spike like a human being. Well, as much as Giles could without appearing to be calculating a plot that would secure his permanent removal.
It was perfection without all the hustle.
“Oh. I forgot to tell you.” Buffy pulled back suddenly, eyes shimmering with glee. “I nailed my paper.”
“Really? You’ve got it back already?”
“No. We did this peer editing thing where you pass your paper around the room so that the other classmates can take a look.” She smiled proudly. “I so totally nailed it. Granted, there were some decent attempts to mark it up by my classmates, but I kick ass.” A shiver raced through her, and she cuddled against him. “Or should I say, we kick ass? Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. Wait till your teacher takes a gander.”
“He’ll love it.” Buffy ducked her head. “I also forgot to thank you for coming by the library yesterday to give it the once over. That helped a ton.”
Spike grinned and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, head dipping to nuzzle her throat. “You thanked me plenty.”
A charming flush colored her ivory skin. “You think we made too much noise?”
“Nah. Library’s always deserted, anyway.”
“Still, we should’ve cleaned up the books.”
He shrugged. “You had to get to class.”
Buffy snickered. “This would be the very same William the Bloody who not two nights ago told me that homework was overrated and that school should be ignored?”
“That is unless manual labor is the only other option.” Spike stole a kiss from her lips. “Personally, you had me bloody well winded, even for a vamp. And I prefer to place my strength in…other areas. Spot of violence, brilliant shaggin’. Let someone else clean up the mess.”
“That someone else happened to be Giles.”
“Better and better.” The vampire nudged her forehead with his before dipping to brush his lips against the nape of her throat, shuddering when her pulse hummed into his mouth. “Mmmm…have I told you yet how ravishing you look tonight?”
She smiled the kind of smile for which he lived. The same that could inspire his heart to start beating again. “About ten or twelve times, yeah.”
“Just ten or twelve? I’m laggin’ behind.”
She smirked, but the humor in her eyes softened the next moment. “Thank you for tonight. I know that proms aren’t your thing.”
“If it’s important to my girl, it’s important to me.”
“There are other places you’d rather be, though.”
Spike arched an eyebrow. “You mean other things I’d rather be doing, love, and only provided you’re there with me. But I’ve watched enough teeny bopper flicks to know that this thing was somethin’ that would get your knickers in a twist.”
Buffy favored him with a coy glance and arched a brow, coiling her hands in the lapels of his dress coat. “The only thing I need twisting my knickers is you,” she replied, then scrunched up her nose. “And…teeny bopper movies?”
“I get bored and there’s nothing else on Pay Per View.”
“You are too cute sometimes.”
Yeah, he couldn’t have that getting around. “Take that back,” he growled.
“Nope. Don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
“Don’t make me make you squeal, love.”
“Oh, what? With Giles here, watching your every move? Don’t think I have much to worry about.”
Well, whatever happened next was her fault. Girl ought to know better than to challenge him. Spike narrowed his eyes then darted a hand between them to cup her pussy through her dress. “You were sayin’?”
Fuck, she was gorgeous when turned on. Buffy blinked, her eyes going a bit hazy, and she shook her head. “You…wouldn’t.”
“Don’t count on it.”
She fed him another mewl as he increased the pressure, then dropped her head against his shoulder. “You…you wanna get out of here?”
“I’d rather see you come, right here, right now.”
She moaned again. “Spike…”
“Oh yeah. Like that.” His fingers inched to the slit in her dress and he favored her with a wink. “It’s dark enough in here that—”
“No. I’m not going to be arrested for public indecency this close to graduation. Do not get this good girl into trouble.”
“You’re not a good girl, love.” His hand was completely under the black fabric of her dress, dancing closer to her center. “You’re very, very bad.”
“It’s your fault.” Buffy clutched at his shoulders and rumbled another whimper. “We’ve already…uhhh…established that you’re a bad man.”
“Makes us quite a pair, eh, pet?”
“Spike, seriously. Let’s get out of here.”
He frowned. “It’s your big night.”
“I’ve had my big night. I’m ready for my big something else.” To emphasize her point, she grasped his cock through his slacks, smiling when he moaned in turn and thrust against her. “Besides, all we’re missing is the crowning of the stupid queen, and we all know it’s Harmony, so no big.”
“Harmony?”
“It would be Cordy, but her popularity’s never recovered from the time she dated and was cheated on by Xander.”
“Ah, yes.” He glanced down. “That was my fault, wasn’t it?”
Buffy chuckled and kissed him. “Well, the circumstances were, but I think it would’ve happened anyway. And it let Will know how she really felt about Oz, so that was a good. Kinda like when I thought Angel had turned and it made me realize how much I…”
Spike drew in a sharp breath and could’ve sworn his heart lurched.
Which she, of course, noticed. Immediately, she shifted like she did when she was feeling self-aware and began floundering. “…How much…I… How you…how…”
A sigh rumbled through his chest and he nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right.”
“Spike, I—”
“It’s all right.” He stepped away, releasing her completely and offering a weak smile before extending a hand. “Come on. Let’s blow this joint.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I just—”
“I got forever, Buffy. I got you. I’m happy. I love you, and even if you can never—”
“Spike—”
“I know, love. I’m just saying if you ever feel that you can’t, that doesn’t change a bloody thing. I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.” He stepped forward, clasping her hand as their fingers entwined. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you’re there, too. You understand?”
There was a second’s pause before Buffy nodded, eyes filling with tears. It broke her heart. She felt she was at love’s doorstep, waiting for a yes or no. It was a frightening thing; going from one extreme to the other so quickly. She had started the school year mourning Angel, hating herself for what she had to do to him. By Christmas, he had been back, dealing with the First Evil, and they’d become a couple once more. By the time her birthday had come around, they had already grown apart because it wasn’t the same. And it could never be the same.
What she had with Spike was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She didn’t want to admit she cared for him more than she had cared for another man. She didn’t want to face the absolutes staring her down in the mirror when she got ready for school in the morning. She didn’t want to surrender the knowledge that having it all—friendship, laughter, passion, heat, romance, everything—was more than Angel ever could have given her. She didn’t want to will herself in love, because even if she knew it was true, that made everything serious. It made everything real. Realer than before. A real she’d never experienced because it felt…grown up.
But as she and Spike said their goodbyes and made their way through the crowds, she acknowledged one truth that scared her beyond reproach. If Spike ever decided it wasn’t enough and left her, she didn’t think she would recover.
She had it all. He had given it to her. And she couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted. Not yet.
What was worse, she felt she knew what the answer to the love question was anyway. Why she kept it to herself was something she couldn’t understand, except that saying the words themselves made things real, and when things got real, they tended to suck.
They arrived at Spike’s place within ten minutes. He had moved in two weeks ago after deciding against nesting in one of the cemeteries, saying he knew she wouldn’t care much for that. And he had opted against an apartment because he likewise knew that they needed their space. His house wasn’t anything special; three bedrooms, one bath, and was near enough the graveyard so he could meet her for patrols. Still, that he’d gone this route for her meant the world.
Within two seconds of walking through the front door, Buffy had leaped fully into his arms, determined to compensate for the love she withheld. Her mouth tore at his as she sent his jacket and tie to the floor. Spike moaned into her, guiding her blindly toward the bedroom and fending off her attack with one of his own.
“Mmm,” she gasped, throwing her head back as his lips skated down her throat.
“You have no bloody idea.” His hands fisted the material of her dress with a whimper.
“Don’t tear it.”
“Wasn’t gonna.”
“Good.” Buffy pulled back just enough to catch his eyes before ripping his dress-shirt down the middle, buttons flying in every which direction. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Minx.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
“Never,” he replied as his fingers found the zipper to her dress. In seconds, he had the fabric pooled around her ankles and his mouth at her breasts. “Like it even more on the floor, I think,” he decided before sucking a nipple between his teeth. She felt him grin against her skin when she grasped at his shoulders, then again when she started pulling at his belt.
Time had not been good to them this week. And here they were, making it up.
Then he had a hand between her legs and her mind went blank.
“By the by,” he said, “not playing fair going without knickers.”
“You’re the one who tells me not to wear them.”
“Finally, some proof I’ve been a good influence.” His thumb found her clit, and he smiled as she bucked against him. “Glad you finally listened to me. No panties for my Slayer.”
To emphasize his point, he ground his palm against her pussy, then edged a finger into her.
“Oh god.” She punctuated that by whipping his belt out of the loops and sending it sailing in the same direction of his necktie. “So good.”
“We’re just getting started.”
She beckoned his mouth to return to hers as he kicked his shoes off and worked his way out of his trousers. When at last both of their clothes were on the floor, Spike pushed her back slightly and ran his eyes over her in ways that made her feel a whole new level of naked. Then he seized her by the shoulders and tossed her back onto the bed. He kept his eyes on her—particularly her breasts—when she bounced on impact, before pouncing. peppering her neck with hungry kisses and pressing his cock against her thigh.
“Oh, god.”
Rather than reply, Spike cupped her face and explored her mouth with his tongue. Doing things to her that shouldn’t still surprise her, but did all the same. How long they kissed, she couldn’t say. Tonight, Spike seemed determined to take his time—something that surprised her, given the fact that her schedule had kept them from having too much time alone this week. Aside from the impromptu study session, during which he’d not let her take off his pants, saying something about her mum and not wanting to be smacked with another ax. Buffy had pretty much expected to be fucked hard and well when they arrived. Part of her wanted that, but damn, she also loved this.
Particularly when he began dragging his lips southward, over her collarbone and breasts, down her stomach, and lower still until his cool breath was caressing her sex. When she forced her eyes open, she found him watching her as he swept his tongue over her clit. Then his fingers were involved, pushing into her and he began sucking on her flesh harder, grumbling little yummy noises that might be able to get her there on their own.
He brought her to the edge and growled when she came against his mouth. And then he started again, sucking and teasing, and driving her out of her freaking mind. But it wasn’t enough—she needed him inside her, needed his mouth where she could reach it and his eyes on her face.
“Spike, come up here.”
“Rather like it where I am now, thanks.”
Buffy grabbed one of his hands and tugged. “I need your mouth.”
He smirked and ran his tongue up her slit. “It’s right here, love.”
She tried to growl, but it might have come out a moan. She didn’t know. But then she was pulling at him in earnest, and yes he’d stopped fighting. The second his face was above hers, she raised her head to kiss him, then wrapped her legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back.
“Not playing fair, Slayer.”
“Neither were you.” She threw a leg over his thighs and lifted to run the head of his cock across the seam of her pussy. “I wanted you here.”
He gave her one of those looks she loved. “I want you always.”
“Then take it.” She lowered herself onto him with a whimper, throwing her head back. “I’ve missed you being inside me.”
“Fuck, sweetheart…” Spike attempted to sit up but she pushed back again, quite happy to remain in control. He was who had taught her to steer, after all. And she loved it. Loved the way she could wipe his smirk off his face by squeezing her muscles just like that, loved how she could make him babble a thousand nonsensical things just by bouncing a little harder, loved how he looked at her, even while she was riding his cock, like they somehow still weren’t close enough.
Spike sat up again, and this time she didn’t fight him, because she could read his intent. The next second, he had drawn a nipple into his mouth, his hands on her hips, pulling her down hard on his cock again and again. Every time he drove him, he moaned around her flesh. Telling her how wonderful she felt, how he was going to burst, how hard she made him, how fucking amazing she was, and always how much he loved her. Always. It came off his lips like air came off hers. And hearing it, the way he said it, the way he meant it, was the thing that got her to the edge. What had her trembling and spasming around him.
And more than ever, she wanted to give those words back to him. Tell him so he knew. Tell him so he believed.
Tell him so he never left her.
Except then the universe would know, and this would end. All of it. Buffy didn’t get to be happy. If the past few years had taught her anything, it was that.
And what they had right now was too good to tempt fate. Not with another apocalypse around the corner.
So she bit her tongue and let him lick up the blood, and hoped he was telling the truth.
Hoped that this was truly enough for now.