20.
“Bedroom…upstairs…”
As soon as the words fell from Buffy’s lips Spike snarled, threw her up over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. She squeaked in response and watched as the living room quickly disappeared from view. Buffy didn’t have the chance to direct him because he went to their bedroom without hesitation and flung open the door. With little ceremony Spike hoisted her off his shoulder and plopped her down bouncing on the bed only to dive after her.
Nobody did cave man like Spike.
They moved in a frenzy of limbs twisting together, kissing, caressing and attempting none too successfully to remove clothing. When his t-shirt became twisted between his head and an elbow, Spike rose to his knees and yanked it off. Once free of that entanglement, Spike struck like a lightning flash. His fingers worked Buffy’s jeans open and yanked them down her legs. Frustrating seconds passed as he pried off her shoes. Buffy took the opportunity to stretch over to the side of the bed and switch on the bedside lamp. One track mind Spike was a wonder to behold. He pulled her blouse off over her head and removed her bra. Her innocent panties did nothing to deserve their swift and immediate destruction.
“Open.” He growled the command and she obeyed, opening her thighs wide for him. “Mmm, lots of practice spreading your legs, I see.” Another groan of admiration rumbled from his throat as he took in the tantalizing sight before him. He paused momentarily to watch her blood surge to that area, engorging her labia and thickening her clitoris with anticipation alone. Glistening trickles of lubrication winked at him in the low light. He could wait no longer. His tongue would have satisfaction. A preliminary lick prompted a slippery grin. “Knew you’d taste like–” His compliment abruptly ended as his mouth fastened over her.
For all their previous aerobic activities, they hadn’t got around to this act before Giles interrupted them. The return of Spike’s tongue to that place was more than Buffy could bear. Her legs seized uncontrollably and slammed against his head. This caught Spike’s attention. He paused at the dizzying and unexpected blow and then pried her legs open once again.
“None of that now, missy,” he cooed, savoring the thought that his tongue had just unraveled a slayer. “Let’s play nice.” He cautioned her coolly and then smirked at her furious blush. “I don’t much fancy you cracking my skull, love. Hold them for me?” Buffy gulped and slid her hands under her knees, opening herself up to him once again. “That’s right, nice and wide…”
She’d missed his tongue terribly. Nothing she did alone could replicate what he did with that tongue. In contrast to his gruff demeanor and agitated mindset, his physical attentions were urgent but controlled. He had her writhing and panting again within seconds. Soon Buffy reached for his head and gripped his hair, holding him to her body. She leaned up on an elbow and watched him pleasure her. Spike looked up and locked stares with her.
He paused briefly for some erotic goading. “You’re one juicy girl.” Two fingers worked her responsive flesh as his lips slurped the secretions that bubbled up. Buffy’s forehead buckled under the onslaught. “Don’t fight it,” he lulled, “give it to me.” Spike latched onto her clit once more and picked up the pace of his finger thrusts.
Buffy arched forcefully into his face as her fluids flooded his buried fingers. She thrashed in his embrace, trying to escape his mouth, only to surge back into him and thrust against his chin and mouth. A breathy squeal soon tore from her parched throat.
“Just what I thought…tasty and musical.” Spike stood and kicked off his boots and then his jeans. Buffy roused from her giddy orgasm and watched him standing before her, peeling his jeans from his body. “I must admit, you’re kinda fun, Slayer.” Spike sucked his fingers into his mouth to clean off the remains of her pleasure.
“You want fun, do you?” Buffy scrambled to her feet with breathless glee and grabbed him. She threw him back down on the bed. He chuckled in response and eased up onto his elbows, his cock stood a lazy sentinel between them.
“I’ll give you top marks for effort, love, but I think there’s some room for improvement.”
Buffy’s eyes widened with incredulity. “You think I need improving?” That was too much. Buffy dove after him and initiated a playful wrestling match, although their moves were more sensual than predatory.
“Think you could stand a little instruction, yeah.” Spike’s eyes blazed with arousal.
“What!? Instruction? Me?” The words sputtered from her mouth. “That is ridiculous. Seems to me you’re the one who needs to get some manners!”
“Is that so?” Spike grabbed her and tried to flip them and enter her. Buffy was ready for his tactics. She rolled them completely and came out on top again, holding his hands immobile above his head.
“You were never perfect, Spike, but you could be well mannered.” She rubbed herself against his now straining cock and realized her tactical error immediately. From this vantage, he could probably buck her off if he wanted, which didn’t seem likely from the look on his face, but she had little room for further maneuvering except holding him steady. “Maybe you need to go back to obedience school and learn a few manners, huh?”
“That sounds nasty, Slayer. Do I get to be teacher’s pet?”
“See that? Talking back is very rude. I may need a choke chain–” At that spontaneous statement, a low vibration rose from Spike’s throat. His neglected cock prodded her swollen cleft with its own urgent demands.
“That an offer, love? Or are you just teasing a fellow?”
Buffy flipped her hair to the side, finally thinking of something else to entice him with. Her hair always held tactical advantage. It cascaded down over the side of his face. She experimented with a steely kitten facial expression. “Maybe I should just handcuff you to this bed for starters. Then I can work on your poor attitude–“
“Think you got the cure for that?” His tongue wagged over the edge of his lower lip like a dog’s tail. Steely kitten face didn’t do the job. It was time for don’t-mess-around-with-me resolve face, complete with suggestive sneer. She needed to maintain her strength of will.
“I know I do.”
Spike had no doubt she probably did. “You really think you can make me behave, do you Slayer? Bigger fish than you have tried and failed.”
“Oh, I can be very persuasive.”
“Is that so?” Spike flared his eyebrows in heady defiance; that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He was more than ready for some lengthy persuasion.
Buffy dipped her head and kissed him. Her grip on his wrists loosened as the kiss deepened. “I had a very persistent teacher,” she whispered between kisses. “When you love someone you don’t give up and I’m not losing you.” It was all Spike needed to turn the tables. In a flash he flipped over on top of her and pinned her hands above her head.
Spike pressed his hips sideways against her inner thighs, spreading her wide once more. Buffy’s breathing became harsh and audible.
“Think you call the shots, Slayer?” Spike propped himself up on one elbow and held both of her wrists with that hand. He did his best not to betray his desires too soon. The world? Seen it. Diabolical schemes? Never his forte. Killing the slayer? Done it twice already. What he felt for this girl was well worth exploring for the foreseeable future, and Spike could see a long, long way. Perhaps she needed a timely reminder though; after all, he wasn’t some cuddly teddy bear. He had fangs.
“I’ve killed your kind.” There was an edge of seductive menace in his husky whisper. Yeah, he was dangerous all right, not some cookie cutter lover she could easily figure out. He’d keep her guessing and teach her a thing or two.
Buffy snapped a quick reply. “And I’ve staked yours, but we have a different arrangement.” She squirmed in his iron grasp. “Put yourself inside me…NOW!” Demanding and arrogant with a lip ripe for biting, she was one mouth-watering package. Spike could hardly contain his effusive delight.
“Sassy little chit, ain’t ya?” Spike giggled and paused, challenging his own control by holding his cock poised at her opening. Buffy bucked her hips in an effort to hurry him along. Her impatience only fueled his lust but he wanted her to twist a little longer.
“Bloody hell but you’re sexy like this…all in a lather…ready to pop.” She was a delicious sight before him. Spike leaned down and took a nipple between his lips, nibbling it to erection.
“Stop teasing me.” Spike raised his head and offered her a sly grin.
“Look at me,” his sex-soaked voice cleared momentarily. “Tell me you love me…not some memory…not some photograph…me.” Buffy’s eyes widened in response.
“I love you. I do.”
“Tell me you want me.” He morphed again. His face looked hard and cruel but his eyes were soft. Buffy’s hips started to tremor.
“I want you.” Shivers cascaded down his spine and a snarl began in his throat.
“Tell me.” Spike leaned into her neck and swept his tongue slowly along her skin.
“Love you.” Buffy released a breathy whisper. Spike’s eyelids fell to half mast and his tone softened once again.
“What do you say, naughty girl?” Spike worried her clit with his oozing glans. Buffy licked her lips and looked into the eyes of her champion.
“Please…”
With a tender thrust he was inside her once more. Spike opened his mouth and passed it over her jaw and cheek, emitting a low vibration from his throat. Goose flesh spread over her skin. Buffy could only manage a strangled gasp as a slow, shattering climax took her.
She encircled him with her arms, wanting him as close as possible. This was when sex was the best. Up close and intimate. Eyes open. A tongue’s breadth between them. Slow dancing in her flame was a new experience for him. The look on her face as he took her deep and easy was something he wanted to last. Buffy’s swollen lips undulated in wanton gasps in reaction to the building storm of his thighs. Spike licked and nibbled at her mouth in soft and urgent punctuation.
It was too much to achieve so soon. The demon refused to sit on the sidelines when such wonders were on offer. This was his mate, his treasure, and he knew she didn’t want him to hold back. Their bodies eventually demanded a rhythm he had no choice but surrender to. Again she matched his accelerating fever. The bed began to squeak in protest under their efforts. Faster and faster they raced, chasing each other to the summit.
“Spike!” Buffy’s face twisted with need. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulder and the back of his neck, forcing him closer. Nothing could stop the momentum snarling between them. Spike hunched over her, relentless between her thighs. His eyes narrowed to golden slits ready to take what he already knew was his.
“You’re mine…”
“Mine…” Buffy repeated and arched into his body. She threw her head to one side just as his fangs sought their destination. A whoosh of sound and light flew through Buffy’s mind and then the dizzying drop. Entwined. Entangled. Falling together. Holding hands. Spike followed closely, toppling after her to surrendered completion and then lips and fingertips and the truth of kisses released from enchantment.
Spike’s mind floated with a rush of words strung together in a haphazard melee. It couldn’t be helped. He’d long had a penchant for verse that normally would have been suppressed but William would be ignored no longer. He felt like shouting from the rooftops. In this state of unrestrained splendor, Spike didn’t have the strength to resist. It was enough to silence a spontaneous recitation but the words sang boldly through his body and mind:
In shadowed rooms of days half filled, The twilight of my recollection stilled. A spark unfurled, petitions spoken, The heart of Beauty’s touch unbroken.
Keats was never in any danger, but at least Spike wasn’t wrestling with that behemoth, effulgent. He learned his lesson regarding cooperative end rhymes long ago.
Spike nestled against Buffy’s flaming body and let himself fall, free of the distant past he knew and the recent past he’d never own. Free of Drusilla’s reach. This was a different surrender, not to darkness or oblivion or to the pain of a mind torn in shreds, but to sweetness and acceptance; to ease and contentment; to the arms of the slayer who knew him and loved him.