Chapter Eleven
Spike looked down at the ancient lawn mower, wondering briefly if he had time to run for his life. When Joyce had said it was old, he hadn’t thought she meant it was older than her. With a sigh of resignation, he leaned down and yanked the power chord. He started to curse violently when it wouldn’t budge, and tried again. He heard a chuckle over his shoulder and turned to see Dawn standing on the porch, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts that seemed to swallow her skinny form.
“What you laughing at, Nibblet?” he asked her, scowling. She didn’t answer, just walked over and leaned down to flip a switch on the mower, then yanked the chord herself. It spit, and sputtered, then roared to life. Spike’s mouth dropped open and he looked up at her. “How’d you do that?” he yelled over the noise.
“Safety switch,” she yelled back, superior smile on her face. He scowled again, and just barely restrained himself from sticking his tongue out at her.
“Right then. Off with you,” he told her pointedly, gripping the handle and starting to push. Dawn retreated as far as the porch, settling on the top step to watch. It had been two weeks since school let out, and this was the first time she had seen him without Buffy, who was currently at the mall with Cordy and Willow. She wanted to savor it. She had grudgingly accepted her sister’s relationship with the blonde, mainly because she had no choice. It didn’t mean she couldn’t still harbor secret hopes.
Spike pushed the mower with the ease of someone who had been doing it for years. Save for the safety switch snafu, no one would have thought that this was actually the first time he had ever touched one. Not much need for mowers when you lived in a townhouse in London. Xander had given him a crash course, telling him what to do, and to make sure to move any sticks and rocks that were in the way.
He whistled softly as he worked, the sound lost in the noise of the mower, but it at least gave him something to do other than focus on the bone jarring motion of the cutter. His thoughts turned to what they usually did, and he found himself smiling. Buffy. His heart raced nearly every time he thought of her. She had very quickly incorporated herself in his life, and he was loving every minute of it. Not since Dru, his first love, had he felt this happy. Of course, Dru had pretty much stomped on his heart, but he got over it. And Buffy was no Druscilla Cambridge.
Giles adored her, even though he would never say such a thing out loud. But, Spike knew his father, and knew that he was happy with his son’s choice.
Since the night of Willow’s date, they had been with each other nearly everyday. Except Saturdays. The girls seemed to realize that was his and Xander’s night to go out and be guys. They didn’t really want to go to the track anyway. The noise, the dust, the smell, it was ambrosia for the males, but the girls nearly cringed at the mention of it. Even Mark had a cursory interest in the sport, knowing enough to get into the conversation when they were together. Music was his first love, but there was something about fast cars that always got a guy’s attention.
Buffy was a little. . .unsure, when he first told her about his desire to race. She was afraid of how dangerous it was, and what if he got hurt? He’d just dismissed her concerns, telling her he could get hurt just by crossing the street. She hadn’t sounded convinced, but he was so excited, she let it go. He and Xander had been looking at the used car ads, and Spike had seen a car that just screamed race car. It was an old junker, and it was a heavy bastard. But it was affordable, and once it was hollowed out, it would be light enough to compete. He’d called the guy, and talked him into letting him put every cent he and Xander had saved from his overpaid tutoring of Buffy (he’d tried to argue with Joyce over the amount she’d given him, but she would hear nothing of it), and Xander’s job, and then making payments. His father had balked at the idea of paying for half of a car that didn’t even run, but Spike had managed to convince him. Now, he was taking driver’s ed, to earn his licence here in the states, and soon, his dream would be a reality.
He found himself daydreaming of a time in the future, when HE would be in victory lane, his woman and his best friend by his side.
~*~*~
“I don’t know, Buffy. I still think it’s too short,” Willow said, following Buffy into the house. The girls were laden with shopping bags, their bimonthly trip to the mall a success.
“Oh, come on, Will. You have great legs. Show them off. Besides, I bet Mark will like it,” she sing songed, chuckling at the blush that crept up her friend’s cheeks. Things had been going very well for her and the guitar player, and she was more than a little shocked. He was sweet, and considerate, with a wicked sense of humor, and smart. He had dropped out of high school when he had decided to pursue a career in music, much to his grandmother’s dismay. But, it didn’t matter. He was street smart, with an uncanny ability to read people.
“I’m sure he will too, if I ever get the nerve to wear it,” Willow said, walking into the kitchen. “What’s that noise?” she asked, listening to the sick sound of the mower.
“Lawn mower. Keep telling Mom to get a new one, but she won’t until this one sputters for the last time,” Buffy said with a chuckle, pulling open the refrigerator. She took out the lemonade and went in search of glasses, skirting around Willow who was looking outside.
“Kinda funny seeing Spike do that,” the redhead giggled.
“Yeah. Do they even mow their lawns in England?” the blonde asked, confusion marring her brow.
“I’m sure they have to Buffy. It doesn’t do it itself,” Willow answered, swallowing her laugh.
“I guess not,” she said, chuckling at her own stupid question. “Thank God,” she declared when the noise stopped, looking up towards the heavens with gratitude.
“Oh, my,” Willow breathed, drawing Buffy’s attention to the window. She looked out curiously, quickly seeing what had so enraptured the other girl’s attention. Spike stood, across the lawn next to the gate, back towards them. Apparently, with the heat of the day, he had felt the need to strip off his shirt, exposing his smooth, muscular back to their view.
“Wow,” Buffy sighed, breath hitching when he turned around, and started walking back towards the house. Tanned skin moved over sinewy, lean muscle, his gait rivaling a cat’s. Broad shoulders gave way to defined pecs, which smoothed down to a rigid stomach. His jeans hung low on his waist, his movement causing them to ride lower, giving the barest glimpse of his hip bone. Buffy felt her mouth go as dry as dust as she watched him, then suddenly she started to salivate as her body responded to the sight of him, half naked and sweaty.
“Oh, my God,” Willow exclaimed, feeling as if she were cheating on Mark by ogling her best friend’s boyfriend. But, DAMN! She started to wonder if she could get Mark to walk around shirtless, so she could ogle him with as much appreciation.
“Amen,” Buffy breathed, staring transfixed at his chest. When her eyes drifted upwards, she found them locked with a smoldering pair of bottomless eyes, the blue scorching her with their heat. A slow smile curled his lip, and she felt a shiver rush through her.
“I think we’re busted,” Willow said with a chuckle, turning to her friend. Seeing Buffy’s state of distraction, she smiled, and waved a hand in front of her friend’s eyes. She blinked, quickly coming back to reality, and offered Willow a smile.
“Well, that was an interesting diversion,” she said, a shaky laugh coming from her throat.
“Yeah. But I think I need to get out of here. Not so good to be lusting after the man my best friend’s panting over.” Buffy scowled at that.
“I’m not panting,” she denied. Willow merely arched a brow, and started to gather her bags.
“With that, I’m out of here. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Will,” she called, picking up the lemonade, and pouring a glass. She drained it straight down, the tart, sweet liquid doing nothing to cool her internal heat. The sound of the door opening gave her a jolt, and she turned to see her sister and her boyfriend walk inside, laughing together about something.
“Hi Buffy,” Dawn said, sitting at the table.
“Hey Dawnie. Hi Spike,” she said, her voice soft. She leaned up to accept his kiss, eyes drifting closed as he lingered over her mouth. Dawn made a retching noise, causing them to pull apart. “Don’t you have something you could be doing right now?” Buffy asked, eyes widening as she tried to get her sister to get a clue. Dawn rolled her eyes, and sighed heavily.
“Fine. I guess I better go get ready. Mom’s taking me to a movie tonight.” She slid out of the stool, and smiled brightly up at Spike. “Bye Spike. Remember to take the safety off.” Then, giggling, she left the kitchen.
“Safety?” Buffy questioned when she had walked out. Spike grimaced, and shook his head.
“S’nothing, luv. Just had a bit of a row with the mower, is all. Dawn gave a hand,” was all he told her. Buffy didn’t push, seeing as how she was now in the same room with the most delicious torso she had ever seen. Her mind took over and helped her create images of what he might look like WITHOUT the pants as well. “Pet?” His voice broke through her train of thought, and her eyes sprang to his, wide with the knowledge that she had gotten caught.
“What? Did you say something?” She grimaced at the smug look that crossed his face.
“Just asked how the shopping went,” he repeated, pouring himself a glass of lemonade. He lifted it to his mouth, drinking deep. When a little slipped out of his mouth, Buffy found herself studiously watching the drop as it traveled down the side of his throat. She had the sudden urge to lick that drop away, and taste the salty sweat of his skin mixed with the sweetness of the lemonade. “See something you like?” he teased, his voice thick. He felt himself react to the way she was looking at him, like he was a treat she desperately wanted to gobble up. And God knew, he wanted to let her. Buffy moved to him so quickly, he almost wasn’t prepared for the hungry attack of her mouth. Luckily, he always had great reflexes. Her fingers curled in his slightly damp hair, her body pressing as close to him as was possible through her clothes. His arms snaked around her waist, crushing her to him as he feasted from her lips. She felt the evidence of his need against her stomach, and instead of scaring her, it fueled her, and she forced her tongue more aggressively against his.
He backed her up against the table, his eager hand sliding under her brief top, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her stomach. Gooseflesh pimpled in the way of his caress, and she arched towards him, silently begging him to touch. He tore his mouth away from hers and stared into her eyes as he palmed the silky curve of her breast. Her eyes darkened to emerald, and a breathy ‘oh’ fell from her kiss swollen lips. The heat from his hand was near unbearable, and she shifted, wanting him to possess her fully. His mouth closed over hers again, his fingers sliding up to tease her hardened nipple. Soft mewling sounds traveled from her mouth to his; lips, tongues and teeth clashing in a fierce battle.
Buffy was lost in the feel of him. So much so, that when he suddenly wasn’t there, she cried out from the loss. She looked at him, confusion and hurt flashing through her eyes. His eyes shifted towards the door, and she finally heard the sound of footsteps headed their way. In the second before her mother walked in, he slipped out the back door, not wanting to face Joyce in his obviously aroused state.
“Hi, honey,” Joyce said, smiling at her flustered daughter. “What’s wrong?” *Nothing. Just you almost walked in on me giving my virginity to Spike. Nothing Big*
“I’m fine. How’s things down at the gallery?” Buffy managed to pull off a normal tone, and calmed her breathing before turning to face her mother. Joyce was turned away from her, pulling stuff out of a shopping bag and putting them in a cabinet above her head.
“They’re alright. We got a shipment of ancient Egyptian pottery today, and it was not what I had ordered. So, I spent the day on the phone arguing with the clerk at the warehouse it was shipped from,” her mother told her, sighing as she turned around. She looked at Buffy, noticing her flushed face and clouded eyes. “You sure you’re okay?” A concerned frown touched her brow.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for awhile.” Buffy didn’t wait for her mother to answer and quickly left the kitchen. Shaking her head in confusion, Joyce went back to putting her groceries away, catching a glimpse of Spike in the backyard. With a knowing look, she glanced from him to the doorway where her daughter had disappeared, wondering just how worried she should be.
~*~*~
“Hey, man,” Xander said, walking into Spike’s bedroom, oblivious to the hurricane that was his room. Spike was sprawled on his bed, arm slung over his forehead, remote clutched in his other hand. He was blindly flipping through channels, his mind too busy playing over the snog fest in Buffy’s kitchen to find anything of interest on the telly.
“Hey.” Grateful for the distraction, he tossed the remote away and looked at his friend. Xander stood, eyes darting around the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets. A reddish tint crept up his neck as Spike looked at him, and it suddenly struck him that he was nervous. “What’s up?” he asked, sitting up, eyes concerned. The two boys had become even closer since he had come to live with them, and thankfully, Tony Harris seemed content to let the boy be. He was probably afraid of being sent to jail, once it was revealed just WHY Xander was staying with the Gileses.
“I. . .uhm, I was wondering. Do you have any. . .you know. . .coflsf?” Xander had brought a hand up to his mouth, the last word coming out garbled.
“Wha?” Dark brows drew together as he tried to decipher what he wanted. Xander sighed, rolling his eyes at his own nervousness. This was his best friend, if he couldn’t talk to him, who could he talk to?
“Doyouhaveanycondoms?” Spike reared back at the speed in which the question popped out, and he started to chuckle.
“Lord, Xander. I thought something was wrong,” he said, pushing off the bed and walking to his dresser. He rooted around in the top drawer, his fingers finally closing around one of the square foil packages he kept there. He turned and held it out, amused at Xander’s embarrassment. The brunette stared at it for a minute, then snatched it, turning quickly to make his escape. “Geez, man. You’re acting like you’ve never had sex before,” Spike teased, chuckling. It took him a minute to notice that Xander had frozen in his spot, wild brown eyes staring at him. Realization hit Spike, and his own eyes widened to comical proportions. “You’ve never had sex before?” he asked, incredulous, immediately regretting it when Xander flinched.
“No. Loser, remember? Doesn’t exactly make for women lining up at the door,” he said, his tone defensive. Spike held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just surprised, is all,” he explained. Xander sighed, and shook his head with a chuckle.
“Not everybody is the lady magnet you are.”
“Pfht. Whatever,” Spike scoffed, flopping back down on his bed. “So, can I assume, since you’re requiring the possession of a prophylactic, that you and the fair Cordelia Chase have decided to take your relationship to the next level?” he asked, unwrapping a lollipop and sticking it in his mouth. He’d heeded his father’s warning about the smoking in the house. And even though Giles wasn’t home, he didn’t want to test his father.
Xander danced on the balls of his feet, seeming to consider his answer carefully. Finally, he went to sit on the edge of the bed.
“We’ve talked about it,” he finally admitted.
“Good for you, then. Why the condom if you aren’t going to use it, though?”
“Want to be prepared. You know, don’t want to get caught unaware.” Spike twirled the pop in his mouth, not faulting the logic. “Can I ask you something?” Xander suddenly seemed shy, and it was a weird thing to see on him.
“Yeah,” Spike agreed with a shrug.
“What’s it like?” Spike’s eyes widened again. *How the hell am I supposed to answer that?* he asked himself. Frowning, he thought for a moment before answering.
“Heaven,” was all he could come up with.
“Well, that was informative.” Xander scowled at the blonde.
“Wha? It’s hard to explain. It’s like, everything in the universe has boiled down just to the two of you. And the heat, and the feel of her silky skin against yours.” Spike sighed, memories assailing him. The only difference was, his mind replaced the dark haired girl that he had discovered the joys of lovemaking with, and put Buffy in her place. “There’s nothing like it.” He crunched the candy in his mouth, smiling slightly. “But, just a suggestion, make sure that you’ve gotten to know her first.”
“I know Cordy,” Xander answered testily. Spike rolled his eyes.
“That’s not what I mean. Well, that too,” he amended. “What I mean is. Explore her. Let her tell you what she wants. Makes it better when she’s as into it as you. Remember, there’s two involved.”
“And how many girls have you gotten to know, oh mighty shaman of love?”
“One. And she was very enthusiastic,” Spike said with a smirk. Xander snorted and got up.
“I’m going to meet Cordy,” he said, starting to leave the room.
“Alright, see ya,” Spike answered, chuckling. He picked up his remote again, and started flipping, vaguely hearing the front door open, then close a few seconds later. He pulled the lollipop stick out of his mouth, and tossed it in the trash, the channels never stopping their rapid changing. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the soft voice call his name. He turned to look at the vision in his doorway, his entire body responding to her presence.
“Pet?” he gasped, eyes raking over her. She stood, nervously clasping her hands in front of her, wearing a white, cotton tank top and a black mini skirt. Her hair was loose, and hanging in waves around her shoulders. He sat up, tossing the remote aside once more. “I thought you weren’t feeling well.” That’s what Joyce had told him when he had calmed down enough to go inside again. She had then proceeded to make sure he had gone home before getting Dawn ready to go out.
“No, I’m fine. Had to tell her something,” she said in a rush, her skin coloring. His lips quirked into a smile.
“I guess so. Wouldn’t do to piss off your mum by telling her we what we were doing.” She gave a tittering laugh, her cheeks turning even redder.
“Yeah. So not of the good.” She took a step into the room, looking down at the floor.
“What’s wrong, luv?” he asked, patting the space beside him. She stared at it for a long second, then walked the rest of the way in and sat down.
“I just. . .uhm. I just wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier.” Spike felt a slice of panic as he looked at her.
“What about it?” She glanced sharply at him when she heard his defensive tone.
“I just wanted to let you know, that I’m not ready to have sex,” she said in a rush, fingers twisting in her lap. A relieved smile bloomed across his face. *Was that all?* he asked himself.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” she asked, incredulous. “Okay?” She looked confused. “That’s all you have to say, is ‘okay’? Aren’t you supposed to be trying to convince me otherwise?”
“Why would I do that? You know your own mind. It’s a big decision.” Spike was thinking that maybe he should hang a sign outside of his door. He hadn’t talked about sex this much in one night, ever. While his friends back in London had frequently bragged about their conquests, half of which Spike had doubted were true, he had preferred monogamy. It probably had something to do with the threat of violence his mother had bestowed on him, should he turn into a Don Juan. Sex was a beautiful act meant to be shared between two people that loved each other. Not just the instant gratification of an orgasm. Even from her death bed, she could still keep him in line.
“But, Angel. . .”
“Angel was a wanker. Don’t ever compare me to him again.” Spike’s eyes had chilled to ice, and his tone had gotten clipped. Buffy huffed and rolled her eyes.
“That’s not what I meant,” she snapped, anger flaring in her eyes. He saw the confusion behind it, and that’s what kept his temper from flaring up to meet hers.
“Listen, pet. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter to me WHEN we do it,” he told her, reaching out to take her hand. His thumb started to draw lazy circles in her palm, his touch sending chills up her spine. “Besides,” he started, his eyes burning into hers. “There’s plenty of other things we can do.” His wicked grin stole her breath, and she felt the now familiar heat course through her. They stared at each other, each remembering the all too brief encounter in the kitchen. He watched the colors and emotions swirl in her eyes as she seemed to be trying to come to some decision. He knew when she made it. Confusion was replaced by lust, and nervousness was replaced by something else. Something unidentifiable.
“Show me.” A groan erupted from his chest at her soft request, and he pulled her to him. But instead of kissing her like she expected, his lips dipped to the hollow of her throat, his tongue darting out to taste the skin there. She hissed in breath at the feel of his rough, wet tongue on her throat. Her head fell back to give him greater access, and her moan joined his when he nibbled lightly on the curve of her shoulder. Her hands restlessly kneaded the skin of his shoulders, grateful that he wasn’t wearing a shirt again. That way, she could feel the strength singing through his body.
His mouth beat a steady path over the skin of her chest, following the path that the neckline of her shirt provided. She arched toward him, seeking the pressure of his lips, trying to urge him further south. One long finger came up to slide the strap of her top down her shoulder, while the other slid up her calf, and along her thigh. Tremors wracked her at the feelings he was drawing out of her, and her fingers clung desperately to him.
“Oh god!” she gasped, when she felt his mouth close over one pebbled nipple. His fingers moved to the other one, doing their best to mimic the actions of his tongue. Buffy felt a wave of heat crash over her, and her panties grew damper with each pass of his tongue over her flesh. Instinctively, she writhed her hips, pressing her mound against his jean clad thigh, seeking friction. Before she realized what was happening, she found herself on her back, her tank top somehow removed from her torso. She vaguely wondered how he did that, before all thought ran away when his mouth went back to work on her breasts. His need was pressed against her thigh, his thigh nestled tightly between her legs.
Her hands flew over his back, nails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders. He growled against her skin, his own hands sliding over her body, learning every detail. She eagerly responded to him, until she felt his hand start to push up her skirt.
“Wait,” she sounded breathless and needy to her ears.
“Sh,” he whispered against her skin, raising his eyes up to hers. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. You want to stop. We’ll stop.” She stared deeply into the cerulean orbs of his eyes, the ache in her center increasing with each second. His tongue darted out to continue it’s attentions, his eyes never leaving hers. Her eyes widened at the erotic sight, and her knee seemed to move on it’s own accord. She needed this pressure relieved, and she knew that she could trust him to stop if she wanted.
“Please,” she breathed, her chest heaving. That was all he needed, his mouth attacked her breast with renewed fervor, and his hand skimmed under her skirt, pushing past her soaking panties to find the treasure underneath. He moaned against her when his searching fingers found her so wet for him. His shaft throbbed almost painfully, but he tramped down on his own desire, wanting to give her the most pleasure possible.
When she felt his fingers gently part her folds, slipping smoothly over her slick flesh, her hips surged up, seeking the release those digits promised. Spike ran wet kisses across her skin, mouth latching eagerly onto the other nipple as his thumb drew lazy circles around her clit. Her breathing became even more ragged when he did this, the pressure building in her stomach with each stroke. Her hips bucked against his hand, and her fingers fisted in his soft, platinum hair, pressing him more firmly against her breast.
Her eyes snapped open when she felt one finger work it’s way into her tight opening, the sensation of being filled for the first time making her explode.
“OH GOD!” she screamed, as colors exploded behind her eyes, and the ball of heat in her stomach erupted, sending molten lava flowing through her veins. She surged against him wildly, tremors shaking her frame as her inner muscles clamped around the steadily pumping finger, his thumb drawing her climax out until she collapsed beneath him, gasping.
Her entire body felt like it was floating, and her nerves twitched at the sensations still rippling through her. Spike looked up at her when her trembling ceased, his hand moving from between her thighs. After a moment, she opened her eyes, and saw the Cheshire cat grin he was sporting. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“See what I mean, pet? Plenty of other things to do besides the big I.” She giggled, raising a hand to trace her thumb over his eyebrow. “You like?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Yes, yes. Like muchly,” she purred, stretching lazily. She felt the hard press of his shaft against her, and her eyes widened. “What about you?” she asked, not believing she had forgotten about him. He shrugged a shoulder, unconcerned. He could take care of it later.
“No worries, pet. Just wanted to make you happy,” he said.
“Well, you did. But, isn’t that painful?” she asked, her expression suddenly shy.
“Just uncomfortable,” he told her, kissing the tip of her nose. His eyes widened when he felt her tiny hand skimming along the edge of his pants. “Pet,” he said, reaching down to stop her. But she evaded him, and he felt the button fly of his jeans give with a tug of her hand. “Christ,” he panted, when her hot little hand dove inside to grip him. They stared into each other’s eyes as her inexperienced hand worked him. She marveled at how soft the skin was, in contrast to the hardness. Like velvet over steel. He was so hard already, that he knew it wouldn’t take long. His hips thrust in time to her stokes, his eyes clouding as he started to cum.
“Oh, Jesus. Buffy,” he gasped. Buffy broke the eye contact so she could watch in fascination as thick, white spurts of semen shot out to cover the spread between them. She looked at the mess, then back up at him, a shy smile on her lips.
“Oops,” she said with a giggle. He chuckled himself, still gasping for air.
“Needed to change the sheets anyway,” he told her, smiling. She laughed at that, the sound music to his ears. When they looked at each other again, they each saw the emotion they felt mirrored back at them. But instead of saying it, they kissed, and started to readjust their clothes. When they were both standing, and Buffy was completely dressed again, he pulled off the sheets, praying that his father didn’t notice when he threw them in the wash. When that was done, she helped him put new ones on.
“Walk me home?” she asked, moving into his arms and resting her cheek against his chest.
“Sure, got to get a shirt and my boots, first.” Reluctantly, she stepped away, and watched as he looked for a clean one. When he was dressed, they took the other’s hand and left the bedroom, each thinking about how much they loved the other.