Chapter 11: French Kiss
There were quite a few advantages to living in a real house rather than in a crypt, but as Spike saw it the greatest thing of all was the bathtub. It might not be something that agreed with the bad boy image, but as far as he was concerned bubble baths, especially shared with a loving Slayer, were very much underrated in the demon world.
The tub was a bit uncomfortable against his back, but the softness pressed to the front of his body more than made up for it. Buffy’s head was resting against his shoulder, his arms were around her, her fingers laced to his. No caresses other than those of the bubbles, for once, as they sat, immobile, in the slowly cooling water. Just a few shared moments of peace and quiet. Just little bits of heaven.
“What time is it in England?”
“Say what, luv?”
He had been half falling asleep, relaxed by their earlier activities, the warm water and the comfort of having his lover against him, and wasn’t sure he had heard right. Had she said England?
“You know, time zones and stuff?” she insisted. “What time is it there now?”
Frowning slightly, he thought about her question for a second.
“Somewhere around 10 am, I think. Why?”
“I was just thinking about Giles. Wondering if he has done his little revolution yet. What do you think?”
His frown deepened. “You were thinking about Giles?” he asked with horror that wasn’t totally fake in his voice. “You’re enjoying a bubble bath with the love of your unlife and you’re thinking about your Watcher? I’m hurt, Slayer.”
She turned her head just enough to be able to kiss his chin.
“You wanna know what made me think of him?” she asked softly.
“Nope, don’t care”, he replied, still pouting. “Want you to think of me.”
“I was thinking of you. And that soon you and I will be married. And that I hope Giles will be back by then. Because that will be the happiest day of my life and I want everyone to share my happy day.”
Spike could have sworn he felt his heart give a beat at her quiet declaration. He found her smiling lips for a soft and tender kiss. Tenderness quickly became fire, tongues battled sensuously, and hands that had been still so far began to explore wet skin, teasing hardening nipples, stroking sensitive flesh. The position, however, was awkward, and soon Spike broke the kiss, eliciting a protesting moan from Buffy. Before she could complain any more, though, his lips were back to devouring hers in a bruising kiss. But in that brief instant he had managed to stand and step out of the tub, holding Buffy closely, her legs and arms wrapped around him, his hardness trapped between them. As he stumbled toward the bedroom, her mouth drifted from his lips, nibbling along his jaw and throat as she whispered huskily:
“Now. Want you now.”
Closing the door behind them with his foot, Spike turned around to press her back against it, raising her body until his cock slipped between her moist curls, then letting her down just as he thrust in. The first contact was intense, bruising, and brought out twin groans from the vampires. The following strokes were just as forceful, the pace urgent as Spike tried to lose himself in his lover, to become one with her. Her nails broke the skin of his back, and at the smell of blood he shifted to game face. The nibbles he had been bestowing his marks on her neck became bites as his fangs pierced her flesh, and sweet nectar flowed into his mouth. She let out a strangled shout, echoed by his as her inner muscles clenched and relaxed rapidly around him, pulling him even deeper inside her. He managed to stop his thrusting, lapping tenderly at her neck as her quivering slowly subsided. When he trusted himself with moving, he stepped away from the door, never breaking the intimate contact, and lowered her gently to the bed, covering her body with his. She pulled his face to hers and her lips brushed his, followed by her tongue which slipped into his mouth and thrust slowly against his. Following this slow pace, he started moving in her again, angling his hips to caress her clit with each stroke. Now that the initial urgency was gone, he planned to make this last as long as possible. After all, they had eternity in front of them.
*****
Dressed as a civilian, with no weapons or high-tech devices apparent, the man could have been just anyone taking a night stroll through the park. Except that most of Sunnydale’s inhabitants knew better than to go around at night in deserted places like this one. Not completely deserted, though. Two other shadows were slipping through the park, and so far they had two dusted vamps to their credit. Usually there were three of them, but tonight one of the targets had separated from the others on the community college campus. She wasn’t the primary target, however, and he had just followed the blonde vampire, keeping him barely in sight so as not to alert him. He only hoped his superior would give the order for removal soon, because, even if he wasn’t alone on this mission of surveillance, observing the habits of Hostile 17 was quickly becoming boring.
*****
Manon had been living with the two vampires for three days already, and until now she hadn’t gotten her chance to ask Spike exactly why he had given up humanity for her. She had started to believe that Buffy didn’t want to leave them alone for too long, since the longest time until that night Manon had been alone with Spike had been a whole five minutes. But then, tonight, the blonde Slayer had sent them off to patrol by themselves while she went to school to take an exam or something. So they had left her in front of the college and been on their way to a nearby park. They’d been patrolling for almost half an hour already, which left only an hour to Manon to find the courage to get the answer to the question that was torturing her.
The problem was, she didn’t know what to expect. Right after she had overheard what he didn’t want her to know, she had begun almost hoping – and still felt slightly guilty about wishing something like this – that Spike didn’t really love Buffy, that it was just some vampire thing. But after sleeping, or rather trying to sleep, a few yards away from their bedroom, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Would they do what they were doing – and no, she wasn’t trying to imagine what it was exactly, not at all – so often if they weren’t in love? Or maybe that was a vampire thing too. She just needed to know. And to know, she would need to ask. Which meant breaking the silence they had both been observing since the beginning of patrol.
“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” she said a little hesitantly.
“What…? Uh, yes, it is.”
He hadn’t called her kid. Good point. Now to the heart of the matter. Or the matter of the heart.
“Do you…”
Do you truly love Buffy? Do you love me? Do you like me one itsy little bit?
“Do you want to sit for a while?”
Coward .
She half turned to him as they walked, hoping the darkness was hiding the rising flush in her cheeks. She doubted it, though, because she could see him distinctly. The features sculpted in marble, the questioningly arched eyebrow, the perpetual upturn of his lips.
“You OK, kid? Feeling tired?”
Joy and disappointment brought by just five words. He cared about her, but she was back to being a child in his eyes. But then, who wouldn’t be compared to his own age?
“I’m not tired,” she said a bit too cheerfully. “I just would like to sit down a while. Enjoy the nice night. Talk a little.”
Her voice had become a whisper on the last few words, but she had no doubt that he had heard. The eyebrow was still questioning, but it seemed a bit puzzled too now.
“There’s a bench over there,” he said nonetheless, pointing somewhere to his right.
Nodding, she followed him toward the bench, drinking in the sight of his form, for once not having to worry about someone catching her looking. There was something in the way he moved, something predator-like, almost dangerous, but it didn’t evoke any feelings of fear in her, far from it. With a feline grace that was all his own, he jumped on the bench, sitting on the edge of the back rather than on the seat. She imitated him, sitting at a reasonable distance from him, watching from the corner of her eye as he lit a cigarette, the brief flame of his lighter illuminating his features.
“Spike… there’s something I wanted to ask you…”
He tilted his face toward her, waiting, she realized, for her to ask.
“First I want to thank you,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I know that you saved my life. With your own. That’s more than anyone ever did for me. More than I ever thought anyone would ever do.”
As she talked, his face grew sullen, and her hopes sank to an all time low. He took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking the stub away, and she heard him mutter something that suspiciously sounded like a curse.
“Do you… do you regret doing it?” she mumbled, confused.
Again, he turned toward her, his face now filled with surprise.
“Of course not,” he said, frowning. “But you weren’t supposed to find out.”
“Why not?” she breathed with a quiet sigh of relief.
“Because I’m a bad, evil vampire,” he said, flashing his demon face for a split second. “Wouldn’t want you to forget it.”
Despite his very serious voice, he had a slight grin as he said so, and she understood he was just joking. She doubted there was even a gram of evilness in him.
“I don’t believe you are evil,” she said very softly, scooting just a bit closer to him. “I think you are a wonderful man who cares enough about me to give up his life to save me.”
Close as she was, Manon could see a storm in the dark blue of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good or bad sign.
“Listen kid,” he said, almost uneasy, moving a little farther down the bench. “I do care about you, but really you…”
“Je ne suis pas une enfant,” she interrupted him, slipping back into her native French without even realizing it. “Et je t’aime.”
Gathering all her courage, Manon leaned toward him, determined to prove to him her proclamation that she wasn’t a kid and loved him. And she would prove it with a kiss.