Chapter 22: Lust (2)
Buffy did as he had asked and opened her eyes, looking at him through fire and gold. For a second, her gaze seemed unfocused, and he wasn’t sure she was seeing him. Then she blinked, and a word passed her lips.
“Spike…”
It was, all together, an acknowledgment, a prayer, a supplication and a moan.
He nodded, satisfied that she was aware of whose arms she was in.
“Tell me what you want, luv.”
Her answer was immediate. “You.”
His lips claimed hers again, bruising, greedy. Her mouth opened and he accepted her invitation, his tongue gliding along hers, tasting remnants of his own blood. Deliberately, he let her fang nick his tongue, enjoying the rumble that rose from her throat. Then it was his turn to groan in her mouth as she bit her own tongue, liberating the sweet nectar that tasted of sugar and stars. In the joined mouths, their tongues danced slowly, mingling two bloods into one.
His hands fumbled with the button and zipper of her pants, and he briefly regretted that long leather skirt she had worn that one night a few weeks before. Eventually, he managed to push the offending garment to her knees without breaking the kiss. He caressed her skin along the edges of her panties, teasing, before pushing them down too.
She pulled away from his lips, panting, and he chuckled softly.
“You don’t need air, luv. So why are you out of breath?”
Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his thumb against her clit as he rubbed his fingers against her wetness. She groaned, and he moved his hand away.
“Now, no noise pet. We don’t want the Bit to hear, do we?”
She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. His hand slid back to her slightly parted thighs and he ran a finger along her slit. She quivered, but did not make a sound. Grinning, he used his free hand to release a breast from the confines of her bra, and simultaneously flicked her clit and nipple. She hissed, but that was all. Determined to see how long she could restrain her cries, Spike brought his mouth to her nipple and sucked on it. At the same time, he plunged two fingers into her core, rubbing the palm of his hand against her clit as he thrust in and out in cadence with his suckling. Looking up, he saw that her head was thrown back, her eyes tightly shut. Blood seeped from her bottom lip were she had broken the skin. A third finger joined the first two. He now alternated between sucking on her nipple and biting it gently with blunt teeth. Her nails were digging into his scalp, pressing him closer to her. He had learned to play her body like a fine tuned instrument, and he knew she was close, very close, even though she was still quiet. Calling the demon face forward, he grazed a fang along the side of her breast, just enough for a trickle to drip into his mouth. At the same time, he rubbed his thumb forcefully against her clit. At last, she growled as her body shuddered, and he couldn’t repress a grin. For the first time she had said his name as she was coming.
Cupping her chin, he guided her face to his to lick the blood on her lip. He then brought his fingers to his mouth, determined not to waste any of her juices. She rested her ridged forehead against his shoulder, still trying to catch a breath she had no use for.
He was about to suggest moving to a less conspicuous location for some more naughtiness when he caught the noise of a car pulling into the driveway. He cursed silently.
“Dress up, luv.”
Gently, he helped her adjust her clothes. Funny how she was more than half naked when he still had all his clothing on. Unfair. When the entrance door opened, she was decent, if still looking slightly dazed. Spike settled by her side against the counter, just an inch away from touching her, his duster closed around him to hide his quite obvious erection.
“Buffy!” the Witch’s voice called. “Are you there?”
“In here, Will.”
Willow entered the kitchen, the Watcher just a step behind her. They both froze as their gazes moved from one vampire to the other. Puzzled, Spike glanced at Buffy, wondering whether he had buttoned her shirt wrong or something of the same kind. No, she looked just fine. Except for the game face. That was a sure way to make her friends nervous. And, he realized absently, he was still in demon mode too. He touched her arm to get her attention, and when she looked at him he shifted back to his human features. She raised her hand to her forehead, frowning for an instant before the ridges disappeared.
“Hey guys,” she said in a faint voice.
“Buffy. Anya had. She had the dresses altered. She wants us to go try them. Tonight. Now.”
Red’s stammering almost made Spike chuckle, but he thought better of it as he caught the deadly look Giles was throwing at him. Also, the thought of Buffy leaving him with his ‘little problem’ was frustrating, to say the least.
“Coming Willow!” Buffy said with forced cheerfulness, and again Spike had to repress a laugh at her choice of words.
He was surprised when she brushed her hand on his, giving him at the same time a regretful look.
“Thanks for bringing back Dawn,” she said quietly. “And for the rest too.”
He smirked at her. “You’re welcome, luv. My pleasure.”
He could almost have sworn she was blushing as she walked toward her waiting friend.
“Oh Red,” he called before they could leave. “I never had a chance to thank you for doing your mojo.”
The Witch only nodded at him before leaving with Buffy.
“I need a drink.”
The Watcher’s mutter brought Spike’s attention back to him. He followed him into the dining room.
“I could use one too, mate.”
Without even a glance at the vampire, Giles filled two glasses with a nice golden liquid. When he handed one to Spike however, his eyes locked on the partially covered fresh mark on his neck.
“Buffy did that?” he asked in a rasp voice.
“Sure did,” Spike answered with a smile, oddly proud.
The Watcher took a long gulp and Spike imitated him, amused.
“Angel?”
“Gone.”
Another long swallow.
“Your intentions?”
This time, Spike couldn’t help laughing softly.
“Come on, Watcher. You’re not her father and she’s old enough to make her own decisions.”
Slowly, Giles put his glass down on the table and took a stake out of his coat’s inside pocket. Spike’s laugh died instantly, but he didn’t move.
“You made her your Childe, didn’t you?”
The vampire nodded.
“How do I know she is indeed making her own decisions? I’ve heard of what a Sire can do.”
“Because I can do it doesn’t mean I want to,” Spike interrupted.
The Watcher gave him a hard look. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I love her.”
They remained facing each other in silence for several minutes. In the end, Giles pocketed the stake again. Spike relaxed ever so slightly and drained the remaining of his glass.
“Is that the moment when you promise me torture and death if I ever hurt her?”
The vampire smirked as the other man took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, mumbling: “I need another glass.”
*~*~*~
“Willow,” Buffy pleaded, “please stop looking at me like that!”
Blushing, the redhead turned her head to the window, but soon her gaze was back to Buffy.
“I’m sorry, it’s just. seeing you with the game face and all. It was wigging.”
Gently, Buffy reached for her friend’s hand, happy when she didn’t flinch at her touch.
“You saw me with the mask before, remember? When we were in that kid’s nightmare? And you’ve known for a week that I’m a vamp.”
Willow smiled apologetically. “Yeah, but it’s still weird. I’ll get used to it. We all will. Just give us time.”
For a while, they rode in silence. But a thought was annoying Buffy.
“Will, what did you mean, ‘game face and all’?”
Again, Willow blushed, until her face was only slightly paler than her hair.
“You know,” she whispered, “the bite marks?”
“Bite marks?!”
Anya loud exclamation as well as the sudden erratic movements of the car made both girls in the back seat jump. Tara, who was sitting in the passenger seat, grabbed the wheel to return the car into its proper lane as Anya was turning to look at Buffy.
“Oh no!” she protested. “You can’t have bite marks! I don’t want bite marks on the pictures!”
Involuntarily, Buffy brought her hand against her neck.
“They’ll be gone by Saturday, Anya, I promise. And I’ll wear a ribbon around my neck. Ok?”
The future bride returned her attention to the road, still slightly puffing.
“We can’t have anything go wrong,” she announced forcefully. “This wedding will be perfect.”