Chapter Thirty-Five
AN: For those wondering about just WHEN Spike is going to propose, don’t worry. I have a very specific idea in mind, so, bear with me.
“How’s she feel?” Xander’s tinny voice came through the earphone.
“Better than sex,” Spike purred, pressing down on the accelerator, urging the car faster.
“Better not let Buffy hear you say that.” Xander watched from the tower, a huge grin splitting his face. It had been a month since Johnny’s death, and things were finally settling down. Crystal had taken a plea bargain, since she had no real hope of acquittal. So, she would serve out her twenty five years to life.
Mark and Ralph had decided to continue on, not because that’s what the record company wanted, but because that’s what Johnny would have wanted. They were still in the process of auditioning new drummers, searching for just the right one. Willow and Charlene thought they were looking for another Johnny.
Dawn had gone back to school, the reporters gone, but her classmates just as bad. They were constantly trying to get information out of her, or gossiping behind her back. It got so bad that Spike offered to put her in private school. Dawn opted to take the early graduation tests, and was preparing to take them right before Christmas. With Thanksgiving right around the corner, that didn’t give her much time.
The two girls were still at Spike’s. It had never been discussed, because he’d never found a way to bring it up. But since Buffy didn’t look to be in a hurry to go anywhere, he didn’t press it. He’d allowed Dawn to put posters up in her room, and fresh flowers and bowls of potpourri started to show up throughout the rest of the house. He nearly choked when he saw the lace doilies. A multi-colored throw was now draped across the back of the couch, and where he’d had his pictures just tacked to the walls, ornate frames now held them. He’d smirk every time he saw something new that Buffy brought in, wondering why she hadn’t done this to her mother’s house. It was slowly becoming as much hers as it was his, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Xander and Cordy had come to a tentative truce with her parents, letting them know in no uncertain terms that if they interfered in their lives again, they would be cut off from Jazz. Two days ago, Cordy had told Xander that she was pregnant. He couldn’t even describe the way his heart constricted, not in a bad way. As far as he was concerned, he had everything, his wife, his dream, a beautiful daughter, and a baby on the way. Life was good in the Harris household.
They had rented out the Sunnydale track three nights a week to get Spike used to driving the car with the extra mirrors. It didn’t seem that much different to him, the extra mirrors actually giving him an advantage. The fact that they had allowed him to put the side mirrors on was nothing short of a miracle. The biggest problem was that they messed with the aerodynamics of the car, and he had to adjust to that. Of course, since Daytona was a restrictor plate race, he’d have to draft the other drivers to get ahead anyway, so maybe that added resistance wouldn’t matter.
He’d been worried, at first, that he had lost his edge, or that he would be afraid. But once he got back into the car, it had been just like saying hello to an old friend. Then again, he didn’t know how he was going to do once there were other cars on the track, but he refused to be negative. Even if he came in dead last, he would still be able to say he’d done it.
Mark had come through with two of his friends, and Xander had found a couple of people from the track. And surprisingly, Spike had managed to lure a couple away from other owners. He’d then bought another car, since a back up was required. The paint jobs wouldn’t be done until right before Daytona, the new design not being unveiled until qualifying. Things were starting to fall into place, even the other driver that Spike had been scoping out.
He knew that he would only do this once. He loved it, and would miss it terribly, but it wasn’t worth the risk. So, he would retire after the race he’d made his debut in, then sit back and let someone else have the glory. He hadn’t told Buffy yet, having something very special in mind for when he did.
“Don’t think I will. I like my bits where they are.” He heard Xander’s laugh through the earphone and grinned himself.
“Bring her in,” the brunette told him, starting to climb down.
“Roger.” Spike zipped around the track one more time, then rolled into the garage area, sliding to a stop. Xander came over to help him out of his safety equipment. Spike pulled himself out of the car and accepted the bottle of water from his friend.
“Well, I think you’re both ready. Too bad we still have two and a half months.
“Yeah. I’m itching to test her with the big boys again,” Spike agreed.
“Not nervous at all?” He took a minute to consider his answer.
“Scared shitless,” he said with a laugh. Xander snorted, and pulled the headphones off. They walked into the garage bay, pulling off the equipment still attached to them.
“As long as you have things in perspective. Let’s get this girl put to bed, shall we? I have a pregnant wife to get home to.” The goofy grin that spread across the brunette’s face made a pang of good natured jealousy flare through his chest.
“Better take her home some pickles and ice cream, then.”
“Yech. You know, she never had those weirdo cravings. She’d just want stuff at odd hours. Like ribs at three o’clock in the morning.” Spike chuckled at that, and stripped out of his firesuit, then pulled on his jeans and boots.
“Oh, don’t sound so bleedin’ downtrod. You know you love it.”
“Yeah. I do,” Xander agreed, checking for his car keys. “You mind pulling her in?”
“Nah. Get outta here. Give them a kiss for me,” he called as the brunette beelined it out of the bay.
“Alright. See you tomorrow.” Spike shook his head and chuckled, folding his firesuit and placed it on the workbench. He then went outside to bring in the car.
He was just pulling himself out of it when Buffy walked in.
“Hey,” he said, jumping to the floor.
“Hey yourself.” She walked up to him and slid her arms around his neck, pushing up on her tip toes to press her mouth to his. He moaned deep when her tongue pushed inside to tease his.
“What was that for?” he asked, breathless. She smiled, her eyes sliding over his naked chest.
“Well, when I walked in and saw you all shirtless and sweaty, I just couldn’t control myself.” His brows shot up at
that, a sensual smile curling his lip.
“Really? Remind me to walk around shirtless and sweaty more often.”
“Gladly,” she purred, stepping away from him so he could finish what he was doing. Giving her a heated look, he walked over to the bay doors and pulled them down. She walked idly around the garage, picking up a tool here and there, inspecting it, then putting it back down. She ran a hand over the still warm hood of the car, turning to lean against it when he was done locking the doors. He crossed over to her with the grace of a cat, his eyes roaming over her tiny frame, the look in his blue orbs causing her blood to sing. She was wearing a pair of loose shorts and a tank top. The erect outline of her nipples told him she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Something tells me my girl came here for something.” His voice flowed like silk over her, making her tingle. She slid up onto the car, the heat from the machine penetrating the thin cotton of her shorts, and amazingly causing another wave of tingles to hit her. She parted her knees so he could step between them, his reaction to seeing her propped against his car pressing intimately against her core. She dragged her nails lightly over his skin, smiling when the muscles under her hands quivered.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to make love on your car?” she whispered, nipping her teeth along his jawline. His hands began sliding up the smooth flesh of her thigh, his head tilting to afford her more access. Her tongue darted out to taste the salty skin of his throat, his groan vibrating his Adams apple under her lips. The thought of taking her, right here, caused him to harden further.
“Buffy wants to be bad,” he hissed, brushing his lips across hers. When his teeth gently bit her lip, she sucked in air, and leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his bare chest. Buffy’s hands drifted over his chest, teasing his flat nipples, then lower across his ridged stomach. When her fingers brushed the clasp of his jeans, he thrust his hips forward, inviting. She flashed a wicked smile against his mouth, then with a quick flick of her wrist, had the button fly open. She pushed her hand inside, gliding her fingers over the ridges and contours of his shaft, lightly dragging her nails across the velvety skin. “Jesus,” he breathed, burying a hand in her hair, and crashing his mouth over hers. His other hand wandered under her top, smoothing over her skin to cup her heaving breast, and flicking his thumb over the hard peak. Her hand fisted around him at the motion, her mewling noises lost to his growl. She began to slowly pump her hand, her tongue mimicking her hand’s movements in his mouth.
She went willingly when he started to lay her back, but she protested when he pulled her hand away.
“Hold on, pet. I’ll let you play,” he promised, pushing her top up and capturing a stiff, dark nipple in his mouth. She clutched uselessly at the smooth metal of the car, arching her back as he rolled his tongue over her flesh. The heat from the car, coupled with the heat from his body pressed against hers, had arousal shooting through her with a dizzying force. She found herself having a new appreciation for stock cars.
Spike feasted lazily upon her breast, until he was satisfied that he had paid it proper attention, before leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses across the valley in between to the other. While he was doing this, he worked her shorts over her hips, groaning against her flesh when he realized she was sans panties. He pushed them as far as he could, before they got hampered by her spread legs. He pulled away from his task, much to her dismay, and started to trail his tongue down over her stomach, stopping to dip into her naval, before nipping his way down her abdomen, all the while maneuvering her shorts down. She writhed against the hood of the car, grinding her hips against the heated metal.
“You like that, luv? The feel of the car underneath your naked body?” he asked, tossing the shorts to the side. “Like how hot it is against your skin?” He stood over her flushed body, skimming his fingertips up her legs. She pulled them up, resting her ankles on his shoulders, her cloudy hazel eyes meeting his near black ones. “Do you, Buffy? Do you want me to make love to you on top of this car? Want me to make you as hot as it is?” His words caused her to moan, her head nodding wildly. He had continued caressing her thighs, drawing ever closer to the thatch of dark curls at her center. When his fingers barely passed over her slit, her hips reared up, and she cried out. Her body was trembling, and she felt just on the cusp of an orgasm. He had barely touched her, but the heat of the car, the sound of his words, and his gentle touches had her hovering just on the edge.
She moaned, long and loud, when he pushed two fingers deep inside of her. She nearly sobbed with pleasure when he began to pump, stroking her inner walls, and circling his thumb around her clit.
“Oh god! Spike!” She screamed, thrusting wildly against his hand. He watched her ride out her climax, his erection getting painful at the sight of her thrashing about on the machine beneath her. With her walls still fluttering, he pulled his hand away. Pushing his jeans down, he positioned himself at her entrance.
“Look at me, Buffy.” She opened her eyes, and stared dazedly at him. As soon as he saw that she was aware of what he was doing, he slowly started to push into her, savoring the feel of her heat still clenching around him. His lips played along her ankle, his hands holding her legs in place. Her eyes drifted closed, and her head lolled to the side at the searing pleasure of feeling him fill her, stretch her, complete her. Her nails scratched at the metal, her hips thrust forward, burying him inside of her. She gasped when the tip of his shaft hit the entrance of her womb, the sensation starting another chain reaction.
Spike stayed still for a moment, trying to get his bearings. Once he was sure he wouldn’t explode too soon, he began to thrust, long and hard, his shaft hitting the sensitive spot hidden deep within her. She thrust up to meet him, arching her back against the car. The only sounds in the room were that of their combined moans, and the joining of their bodies. Faster and faster they moved, Spike angling himself to get even deeper. Buffy keened, high and long when he did this, her inner muscles clamping hard around him. This spurred him on faster, his own climax hitting him with a force that nearly staggered him. Luckily, he knees were braced against the car, or he would have toppled to the floor. Thrice more he slammed into her, her name falling from his lips as his shaft emptied into her. He let her legs slide from his shoulders and leaned over her, burying his face in her neck. Sweat slicked their skin, and their breathing came in ragged gasps.
They both realized, at the same time, that they hadn’t used a condom. The funny thing was that neither really seemed to care.
~*~*~
“Hey, Dad,” Spike said, smirking at the slowly moving Buffy. They hadn’t stirred for a long time afterwards, the ringing of his cell finally spurring them into motion. He’d taken the time to pull on his jeans first, feeling a little weird about talking on the phone naked.
“Hello, Will. I’m calling to see if you and Buffy would like to come to dinner tomorrow since we had to cancel the last arrangement,” Rupert told him, rubbing his tired eyes.
“Tomorrow?” Spike frowned, glancing over at Buffy. She had just managed to pull her shorts back on, and straightened her shirt. Now she was looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Yes. That is if you aren’t busy.”
“Hold on a sec.” Spike pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, walking over to him.
“Dad wants us to come to dinner,” he replied, scowling.
“I take it you don’t want to go?”
“No. It’s not that,” he started, running a hand through his tousled curls. “It’s just. . .”
“Anya. You still haven’t gotten over that, have you?” She looked up at him expectantly, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I guess not,” he said with a sigh. He scowled, tilting his head to the side.
“Spike, let’s go. Talk to her, get to know her. You never know, you just might like her.” Spike stared down at her for a long minute, before sighing again and lifting the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Dad. Yeah, we’ll be there.” He didn’t sound too excited. Luckily, Rupert didn’t notice.
“Really? Splendid. Around eight then?”
“That’s fine.”
“Alright, see you then.” Spike turned off the phone and slipped it into his pocket. He then picked up his light blue button down and slipped it on. He glanced up at Buffy to find her studying him.
“Wha?” He turned to face her, his long fingers working the buttons.
“It’ll be okay. You’ll see. I’ve met her, and she seems nice. Cordy thinks she’s great, so really, how bad could it be?” The look Spike gave her told her that he could think of plenty of ways. “Give it a chance, baby. Giles has a right to be happy,” she finished quietly, looking at him for a second, then turning to leave. Spike heaved yet another sigh, and moved to follow her, wondering why life had to be so fucking complicated.