Chapter 3: Frisky
As the fuzzy fingers of sunrise crept around the edges of the heavy drapery, Buffy woke out of necessity for the toilet. She untangled herself from Spike and walked still mostly sleep to the bathroom. Returning quickly to the bed she snuggled up to Spike again and began to think.
What would the day bring? Giles would probably want to do lunch and Dawn certainly wanted to shop and go sightseeing. Buffy formulated a plan in her head: utilize Giles and/or some of their coven friends to occupy Dawn with a varied and time consuming schedule. This would free up the hotel room for more hotel room-like activities.
Spike twisted in his sleep and brought her closer, his nose buried in her scalp. The door to the other bedroom opened.
“Whoever invented mornings should be staked.” The frightening vision of bed head Dawn in her SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas emerged from the other room. She yawned and scratched her head and walked with eyes closed into the bathroom with her bag of toiletries.
Spike opened an eye and squinted. Blonde hair, Buffy’s scent and Dawn complaining; it wasn’t a dream. “Mmm,” he mumbled, burrowing himself deeper into Buffy’s hair.
“Mmm, yourself.” The shower activated and a high pitched squeal vibrated through the walls. Buffy turned over and faced Spike nose to nose. He opened both eyes this time.
“Morning, love.”
“You slept.”
“Yeah…why?”
“It’s just neat, you know, morning…sunrise…and you waking up.”
“Don’t get too attached, pet, creature of the night here.”
“Are you tired? Need some more rest?”
“Why, got plans to tire me out?” Despite her best effort, Buffy grinned at that astute suggestion.
“Dawn wants to go shopping and sightseeing and–“
“I understand. You two need your girl time.”
“What? No. We’ve had plenty of girl time in Rome. Plenty. Her Italian is passable and mine is beyond painful, so I’ve had every conceivable conversation with my sister I’d ever thought I’d have and then some.”
“So that means…”
“Breakfast with Dawn and then we call Giles for some quality chaperone duty. He’s hot for the Tower of London and the castles and all that crap.”
“Pawning your little sis off on Giles?” The smirk practically sizzled. “That’s so…”
“Me? Yeah, I know. Besides, Giles owes me big time since I took Andrew off his hands months ago. I really think Andrew freaked Giles out with his transformation into Giles 2.0.”
“Yeah, I caught that version in LA. A little different than the Andrew I remembered.”
“Anyway, Dawn isn’t even half the pain in the butt Andrew is, they’ll have a great time.”
The water stopped and Dawn soon emerged wrapped in several enormous towels.
“Good morning people!” She chirped in a too enthusiastic voice.
“Morning Bit,” Spike said.
“You did leave some towels, didn’t you Dawn?”
“Yah-huh. So, how have you two schemed to get rid of me so the perv train can leave the station?” Spike bit back his giggle.
“Dawn!” Buffy scolded automatically.
“Buffy,” Dawn sighed, “let’s just say that I’m conscious and, like, AWARE of the whole you two thing. I can take a hint, you know. It’s fine with me as long as I don’t have to listen to anything through any highly polished wooden doors…like ever again.”
“How would you like a tour of London with Giles?”
Dawn shrugged her shoulders. “Could be cool. Giles has a whole different vibe here in the motherland. I can totally see the Ripper thing now. In Sunnydale he was kind of suity, you know? But in London he’s almost hot.”
“We’ll leave for breakfast in ten minutes, Dawn. I just need to get dressed and comb my hair.”
“Ten minutes!? Are you insane? I have to dry my hair, put on my face and get dressed and everything.” Dawn grabbed her suitcase and dragged it into the adjoining room. The sound of a super turbo hair dryer soon filled the air.
“What is the world coming to Buffy? Dawn just called Rupert ‘almost hot’. Does she have a geriatric fetish that you’ve been keeping from me?” Spike shook his head to get Dawn’s puzzling words out of his ears.
“I don’t know, there was that time she thought you were almost hot.” Buffy slapped him with a mischievous smirk.
“Hey!” Spike grabbed Buffy and rolled over, pinning her to the bed.
“I need to get ready, Spike.” Buffy made no overtures to free herself.
“You need to take that back. ‘Geriatric’ and ‘Spike’ have no business in the same sentence.”
“I never said geriatric,” Buffy grinned an evil grin and rotated her crotch against his. “Although personal experience with the reign of Queen Victoria is hard to argue against, gramps!”
“Torturing me with your little sister not fifteen feet away is it? That’s a sassy slayer, that is.”
“Well, you know me. Sassy, unpredictable, good with my hands…” Buffy reached between their entwined bodies and cupped his crotch, squeezing it with purpose.
“Buff– ohhh,” Spike closed his eyes to the pleasure of her fingers.
“Spike, you have the most enormous…knot…let me massage it for you.”
“You are an evil woman, Buffy Summers.”
Buffy licked the tip of his nose in reply. “Let me get some breakfast into Dawn and then I’ll show you just how evil I can be.” Her fingers never wavered from their tantalizing task.
Spike put all his evaporating concentration into his next statement. “Is that a promise pet? Because in all honesty, I’ve been disappointed before. You talk a good game, but can you deliver?” Their eyes flashed as seduction ricocheted between them.
Buffy redoubled her efforts. He wasn’t allowed to be so cocky when she was in control of the joystick. “Don’t worry about me, Spike. I can put my money where my mouth is, but I’d rather put your c–“
“You said ten minutes and you’re not even out of bed!” Dawn’s brow darkened as she walked into the room ready for the day ahead. “Stop snuggling and get moving!”
Buffy gave Spike one last hidden squeeze and then slid from the bed toward the bathroom. She grabbed her leather satchel on the way.
“They have a small breakfast room downstairs Buffy,” Dawn suggested, reading the fine print on the room service card.
“That sounds great Dawn,” Buffy called over the sound of running water. Spike angled his legs to shield Dawn from his evident erection. He was glad of the extreme tightness of his jeans, at least tenting would not be an issue.
“Should I go down and check out potential sunshine issues, Spike?” It never occurred to Dawn that the three of them would not be having breakfast together. She hoped this small hotel would have a small darkened restaurant. “You are having breakfast with us, right?”
“Of course, Nibblet.”
“No need to check it out, Dawn, I’m ready.” Buffy emerged from the bathroom in record time with jeans, a low cut gauzy blouse and her hair fixed in a loose ponytail.
“Didn’t you want a shower, Buffy?” Dawn frowned at the unusual occurrence.
“I’m hungry now Dawn, and I can shower later. Spike, are you coming?” Buffy’s eyes widened as soon as that last word left her mouth.
“Just a tic, ladies.” Spike rolled off the bed gingerly, considering the sizeable erection he concealed beneath his jeans. He slipped on his duster and joined the girls as they walked down the hallway. Sacrificing his hair for a noble cause really cut down on his prep time.
Much to their delight the hotel sported a dingy windowless dining room that offered a breakfast buffet. Buffy spoke to Giles on her cell phone and made arrangements for the day. Dawn ate a bowl of fruit while her scone floated in a huge puddle of raspberry preserves. Buffy munched on eggs and toast. Spike played with strawberry after strawberry, licking them to distraction for Buffy’s benefit.
Thankfully, this was the one time that Dawn’s ‘ew’ radar was not functioning. She made some comment about Spike needing his roughage that made Buffy choke.
Giles soon arrived ready to escort Dawn on the highbrow tour of London. Buffy told Dawn to call later and they’d make plans for a fun night on the town. Spike nodded and offered several possibilities of his favorite spots.
As soon as Dawn and Giles left the room Buffy slipped her foot out of her sandal and slid it up into Spike’s crotch. That got his undivided attention.
“How dare you eat strawberries like that in front of my little sister,” Buffy scolded him while pulsing her foot into his once again growing erection. Spike slipped his hand under the table and held her foot against him.
“Let’s get some to go pet. I want to eat them off of you.”
“Wait, Spike, I’ve got to go get you some blood.”
“Told you I was fine, love.”
Buffy leaned forward and whispered into this face. “You’re going to be a very, very busy boy today. I don’t want you ‘fine’ and I don’t want you hungry for anything else…but me.”
“Right. Butcher shop…I’ll ask the waitress.”
*
Buffy wiggled all the way up in the elevator. Excitement bubbled over in her mind and three containers of pig’s blood lay clutched in her hands. She just couldn’t keep her feet still.
The door to room 69 opened and she entered.
“Well, well, what have we here?” Spike pounced immediately, pinning her against the door. His voice snarled in low tones and aimed straight for Buffy’s crotch. “Such a pretty girl and so far from home. What do you have in your sack little girl? Something for grandma?” Spike’s eyes flared yellow for a moment.
The Little Red Riding Hood thing was so cliché but Buffy had enjoyed it a long time ago when Spike encouraged her to experiment sexually. Spike made an excellent Mr. Wolf. Buffy could admit that she was a little wooden as Red Riding Hood but that did not interfere with some monumental orgasms.
From this distance that particular game seemed a little tame and Buffy did not want Spike to get the upper hand. Besides, she’d had a few other fantasies brewing over their long months of separation.
“Sorry to burst your bubble Mr. Wolf but I’d rather not go there today.”
“Oh,” Spike stepped back to allow Buffy access to the nearby dresser. She set down the blood and in a flash pinned him face first into the door.
“Assume the position.” Buffy spoke with gritty slayer authority. Spike smirked and raised his hands flush with the door.
“Have you been a bad boy, Spike?” Buffy cooed.
“You know it, pet.”
“Call me Slayer.”
“Very bad, Slayer.”
“You better hold still while I check for any hidden weapons.” Buffy’s hands trailed up Spike’s spine and out to his shoulders. They curved under his armpits and down over his chest. “I’ll bet you’re packin’,” Buffy continued. Spike stifled any chuckles at her bad porn film dialogue because the sensations were so acute.
Buffy slid her palms down the length of his legs and back up to his rear end. A thorough investigation of his ass occurred before she reached around Spike’s hip to encircle his straining bulge.
“Mmm, just what I thought…a .22,” Buffy bit her lip to stop giggling.
“A .22?” Spike erupted with indignation. “Buffy, that’s a small caliber weapon. Feel again pet.”
“I really need to study up on my firearms,” Buffy deadpanned and squeezed him. “Oh, yes…sorry, not a small caliber weapon, more of a medium cal–“
“Excuse me? Try a bloody bazooka, Slayer. Don’t you be casting aspersions to my manli–“
“Did I say you could talk?” She squeezed his restrained bulge tightly. “Get a load of the lip on this guy…” Buffy plunged her hand down the front of Spike’s jeans, barely managing to wedge her fingers between his skin and the fabric. “How can you wear such tight pants, don’t they cut off your circulation?” Buffy squeezed his shaft with slow deliberate pulses.
“That’s not really a problem for me, Slayer.”
“The way you look in these pants ought to be a crime.” Her tongue followed her whisper into his ear. Now they were back to a badly dubbed version of ‘Buffy does Budapest’.
“Is that right?”
“Yes. I think I’ll need to take your clothes in as evidence.” She let a giggle escape her throat that time.
“I don’t think that’s right, Slayer. Sounds a bit like sexual harassment to me.”
Buffy reached between Spike’s legs with her free hand and grabbed his balls. “Is that a complaint, I hear?”
“Fuck…Did somebody say something? ‘Cause I didn’t hear a bloody thing.”
“Good, now take off your clothes while I get the cuffs.” She whispered seductively into his ear. Buffy had forgotten the speed at which Spike could disrobe. She figured it could accurately be measured with accelerated film photography, like how they show hummingbirds in flight. Buffy went to her bag and pulled out her red chiffon scarf. It would have to do. She kicked herself privately that she hadn’t brought more scarves, but sexcapades were not on her itinerary when she packed. She really needed to decide: did she want him blindfolded or tied up?
Tied up it was. She always liked to look at his face when he was at her mercy. With only a flimsy scarf to hold him back, all the restraints would be in their minds.
“On the bed…Spike,” Buffy ordered with a slight growl to her voice. Spike leaped onto the bed, eager for the games to begin. Buffy straddled his chest and brought his arms up over his head. She looped the scarf around his crossed wrists and tied him to the bedstead. Spike gripped the metal crosspiece to anchor himself.
She then crossed her arms and pulled off her nearly see through blouse. She stood up on the bed still straddling his chest and peeled off her jeans. She looked lovely, spilling over in a matching set of white lace bra and bikini panties.
“I know how to punish someone like you.” Buffy stepped down the bed and knelt, straddling his hips. She threaded her fingers through her hair and freed her ponytail.
“I remember you telling me once you liked my hair, especially when it bounced. I think you were making a rude comment.” Buffy leaned forward, stretching herself the length of his torso. Her soft curls cascaded across his face.
Nose to nose she challenged him. “You still like it, Spike?”
“I do,” he responded simply, lost in the clouds of her hair.
“Oh, a civilized answer for a change. Well that won’t save you from what you deserve…” Buffy began switching her hair slowly back and forth criss-crossing his chest and down his abdomen. She met his rather formidable erection and paused, swaying her locks over his straining cock.
Buffy opened her mouth coyly and then surged back up his body to his face.
“I take back anything that I may have said as a slight against that mighty beast,” Buffy spoke softly and wrapped a palm around his swollen cock. “We’re definitely in bazooka territory, Spike.” She flared her eyebrows at him and began pumping her hand. “Let me apologize properly.”
With that statement Buffy dragged her tongue down his sensitized chest, over his abdomen and sucked his length inside her mouth.
Spike bucked and drew breath, his eyes fixed on that most wondrous of sights.
Buffy flipped her hair theatrically to the side to accommodate his view. “Did you miss me, Spike?” she looked up at him with the look of a playful kitten twitching its tail. “Because it’s been a long, hard winter without you…” Buffy giggled at the ridiculousness of her statement and went back to work. She took him with deep sweeping strokes, lots of saliva and exaggerated slurping sounds and groans. She knew well how Spike appreciated all the bells and whistles.
Buffy did not forget anything. The entire top ten Spike favorites were hauled out for a truly mind numbing experience. The throat humming, the tongued do-si-do, that one spot he liked her to nibble on and that syncopated suction thing that had him squirming in agony, trying desperately not to come.
“Now that’s just plain pig-headedness, Spike. I want you to come.” Buffy slowing teased the head and weeping aperture. “Don’t you want to come…on my tongue?”
“Fuck, yes,” Spike yelped, past the point of control. He started a flow of dangerous proportions. Buffy squeaked in delight and sealed her lips over the head, sucking and swallowing all he had to offer. She’d missed hearing his abandoned cries of ecstasy.
“Mmm.” In conclusion Buffy raised to her knees and licked her fingers clean in an exaggerated manner. She undid and removed her bra, rolled over on her back beside Spike and lifted her feet into the air to remove her panties.
“Ready for round two, tough guy?” Buffy rolled over again in order to mount him. The next thing she knew Spike had her flipped under him and was pounding between her legs at a blistering pace and kissing her breathless.
“Hey, slow down cowboy…patience is a virtue.”
“Fuck bloody patience,” Spike growled and then thought better of it. “Forget that, ’cause I’d rather be fucking you.”
“Pace yourself, Spike, I don’t want you to injure the missile.” Buffy wrapped her legs around him and tilted her pelvis for maximum penetration.
“Missile’s fine, love, right where it belongs…”
*
“You’re telling me you finally beat up Angel and I missed it? Just my luck.” Buffy screwed up her face in regret and watched as Spike finished off the last of his blood. “By any chance were scented body oils a part of this fight?” Buffy lay on her side, propped up on one elbow while she lazily rubbed her calf against his.
Spike wrinkled his brow with incredulity. “Pet, I wanted to kill Peaches and would have, but I knew you’d–” His voice stopped, not wanting to continue along that avenue. “What’s with you Buffy? We were fighting for real. There was nothing erotic about it. I got some things off my chest that needed saying. I let the bugger know where we stood. He’s not master anymore and I made him see that. I was bloody well top dog that day.”
“Oh.”
“Was all for naught though, seeing as I got a nice cup of Mountain Dew for my troubles, ‘stead of the bloody brass ring…again.”
Buffy took the last empty container of blood, leaned over Spike’s chest and threw it in the trash bin.
“Don’t tell me you actually have sexual fantasies about me and the poof? Because that might concern me, pet.”
“No comment.” Buffy couldn’t hide the hint of a smile and the faintest tinge of her cheeks. Spike rolled on top of her, nestling himself between her welcoming thighs.
“You dream about me doing this with him?” Spike snarled and leaned down slowly to lick her lips. “Is that it?” Her girlish erotic fantasies were her own business and he’d never seriously rebuke her for them. Her playful ideas were tame compared to the truth of the torment he once suffered under the dead weight of Angelus and his endlessly inventive bitch, Darla. Spike would never reveal that truth to Buffy.
Sexually, Angelus was all about hierarchy and corrosive egotism. Spike had been his favorite tortured pet because Spike was on the bottom rung of the ladder. Spike submitted but was never broken and resistance was the most potent aphrodisiac for Angelus. Those memories were best left in the graveyard of the past.
That one time with Angel was more of an accident. He said he was reaching for the remote and Spike believed him. That half hearted grope would technically qualify as an intimate exchange, but they both agreed never to discuss it.
“Well, kinda…” Buffy admitted. “Once– twice!” she amended quickly and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t ask me to justify my fantasies, Spike. Some of them are just plain weird.”
“Maybe I want to hear the weird ones, pet,” Spike licked the inner edge of her ear. Buffy tightened her thighs around his hips.
“No fantasies. This, I want this.”
“Show me.” The gravelly timbre of Spike’s voice rattled Buffy to her core.
“Want this,” Buffy moved her hand between them and captured his cock. “Need this,” she angled him toward her opening and placed him there. “Just this,” Buffy thrust her pelvis to envelope him. Spike reciprocated with a leisurely pace.
There were no clocks in that room and the forgotten sun hung still in the sky. Time held no meaning there. Hidden within four walls in an unremarkable hotel on a quiet street were the heirs of giants. Here were the shades of Orpheus and his Eurydice, Troilus and his Cressida, Cleopatra and her Antony. Here were the fires of love, the faces of love, the furies of love. Two veterans of the plagues supped the unquenchable nectar of joy found in that rarest of botanical specimens, the fragrant flower of hope.
Always a considerate lover, Spike excelled in the area of endurance. His stubborn resilience continually pissed Angel off, but it made Buffy’s body sing the sweetest arias he’d ever heard.
He slipped his hand between them and caressed her clit, giving her the pleasure and delight he felt. She arched strongly off the bed, thrashing her head about. Something feral seized her and she surged upward, her teeth mindlessly biting into his cheekbone and drawing blood.
Spike’s eyes blazed golden seeing his blood on her tongue. Expecting to see disgust or horror at what she had done in the throes of passion, Spike was again stunned to see only that look. The one that belonged to him.
“I love you,” Buffy managed. “Let me love you.” She brought her shaking hands to his face and lay her palms against his skin. “Let me see you.” Her voice was soft and shy. The games were now ended. There would be no artifice for them. Buffy needed the truth as much as Spike did.
Spike relaxed and let himself shift. She felt the reconfiguration of his features beneath her fingers. His throat then sounded a low vibrating snarl of near contentment.
The look on Buffy’s face was one of fascination. She’d seen this face many times before, but always in battle. Now as he hovered above her, his hips curving languidly into hers, she saw something new, something that wasn’t all beast. This was a face so deeply in love she could weep.
“Show me your big teeth, Mr. Wolf,” she whispered softly, careful not to burst the fantastical scene before her. Spike opened his mouth and showed her his fangs. She brought her finger tentatively to his mouth.
“May I?” Spike nodded, knowing she wouldn’t hurt herself. Buffy felt the edges of his teeth; they were not unlike her own teeth. The canines were longer to be sure and sharper, but they were not razors. Spike could no longer resist; he sucked her finger into his mouth and matched that rhythm to the rhythm of his pelvis.
Buffy giggled and flipped them, not satisfied with Spike’s slow and easy cadence. She sat up tall and squeezed him securely within her.
“Buff-ffy,” Spike gasped as his hands came to rest on her hips.
“I want you,” Buffy leaned forward and kissed his thickened lips. “I want to make you come. Just as you are, right here, right now.” She began to undulate her hips but her growing hunger required a shift of position. Buffy straightened up and began her journey.
“I love a man who is a wolf and a boy and a sinner and a hero…” The words sailed through her mind as if painted there by some master unseen. It was only later that she realized she had spoken them aloud.
*
“Okay…okay…that sounds…yes…put Giles back on. Hi…dinner is fine. We have some plans afterward. You’re welcome to join us…oh…what’s her name? Accounts receivable? Sounds very top drawer…okay, have fun. I’ll expect Dawn at eight o’clock. Thanks Giles.” Buffy ended the call and closed her cell phone. She put it on the counter and resumed her relaxed position in the bathtub back against Spike’s chest.
“Everything okay with the Bit?” Spike toyed with the last remnants of shampoo residue that pooled on the surface of the water.
“She’s all touristed out and ready for some chow. Giles knows this place.”
“So that means?”
“We order in.”
“Strawberries,” Spike raised his index finger. “A big bowl of strawberries.”
“I can’t survive on strawberries. I need to build up my strength.”
“Well actually, they’re not for you love. But if you’re extra nice, I’ll think about sharing a few.”
“I’m ordering a burger with some vegetables.” Buffy felt Spike harden against her bottom. “Spike! Don’t tell me vegetables get you horny? I could so rent a carrot suit!”
Spike laughed. “‘S not the food pet. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything substantial since back in the Bronze age.”
Buffy smiled wistfully at that reference. “Well contrary to the polls, I do actually eat. You want to see me chew? What was breakfast? I chewed at breakfast.”
“Don’t remember breakfast…don’t remember anything.”
Buffy sat forward and twisted her head to look at him. “Sure you remember…Angel slayed a dragon? Saved the wor–” Spike grabbed her and kissed her hungrily. Soon his fingers began tickling her torso and armpits.
“Hey! Stop that!” Buffy thrashed and the water sloshed about, spilling onto the floor. “Spike! Behave! I need to rest a bit if I’m going to ravish you one more time before Dawn comes back. Plus we have to straighten this place up and the whole flooded floor thing might be a clue to our sleuthy chick of the goings on today.”
“Fine, come here. Non-sexual hugs available.” Spike drew Buffy once more to his chest.
“Okay, so where were you again?” Buffy tried to remember where Spike had been in his story before Dawn called.
“The amulet?”
“You passed that, and I love the no jewelry thing, by the way. It’s so rrrhhhrr.” She wiggled her bottom against his cock, maintaining his state of arousal. Spike raised his eyebrow at that kittenish vibration from Buffy’s throat.
“It’s my own personal rule now love. Seeing as it’s so easy to be lassoed into near nothingness by a sparkly bit of stuff — so no man jewels for me, not never, not no how.”
“Oh, I think it was the shoes thing!”
“Right.” Spike’s hands encircled her torso and cupped her breasts. “The Shanshu.” He kissed Buffy’s temple. “That’s Angel’s gig anyway. Always was, I just got a bit of a swelled head over it. And then the stale cup of Mountain Dew, o’ course.”
“Hmm.”
“Buffy?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m fine with it, honest. Took his seconds all my life–“
“SPIKE!?” Buffy jumped forward in the tub and flashed him a looked of the deeply pissed variety.
Spike’s eyes snapped open. “Oh, no love, not you…never you…bloody hell…” Spike kicked himself mentally for that unintended slip. She nestled back onto his chest and let him continue. “I was talking ’bout the bad old days. When we was evil. Never thought I’d get out from under his heel.” Buffy nodded and looked up at him with kindness. “Never knew how dead I was, love, until you showed me how alive I could be.” Awkward as the position was they kissed tenderly until Buffy stood up.
“Time’s a wasting Spike, we’ve got a schedule to keep. I think there’s a ravishing in your immediate future.” She grabbed a towel and Spike’s erection.
“Hey, easy…easy…Slay–ohhh…fuuuccckkk.”
*
“Hold still, where’s that famous slayer muscle control when I need it?”
“You’ve fucked it out of me, Spike. Call me the contented noodle. Look, I’m going to fall off.”
“You’re going to bloody well stay put. You’re a picture like this, all quivering and delicious…” Buffy balanced on top of the small yet sturdy café table with her hands gripping the edge behind her and her knees drawn up and spread wide apart.
After Buffy finished her meal, a series of urgent kisses ended with Spike coaxing Buffy backward against the small table. Soon her robe was discarded and she was on top of the table in a precarious and sensually inviting position. She felt silly at first until Spike started with his magic lips and fingers. Soon all thoughts of discomfort fled.
Spike sat between her thighs chewing strawberry after strawberry he at first dipped lazily between her oozing lips, coating each one thoroughly in her juices. Buffy’s arms began to shake at the erotic torture of the scene. She heaved in breaths, trying to maintain her position.
“Spike, my butt is asleep.”
“Your butt deserves a little rest, love. ‘S been very busy, if memory serves.”
“I think I’ve got a cramp,” Buffy complained weakly.
“Shh, I think I need to stir the honey pot…” Spike inserted two fingers into her depths and lowered his mouth to her clit. “Mmm, strawberry pussy…how’s that cramp now, pet?”
“Cr-cramp? Feels…oh god do that again.”
“What love? That?” Buffy’s incomprehensible warble raised a few notes. “Oh, baby likes that?”
“Likes…likes…yeah, likes.” Buffy began to doubt whether she’d actually be able to walk in the next few days, let alone go out on the town when Dawn came back.
Shit. Dawn.
There was a wristwatch somewhere in this thoroughly debauched space. It could well be close to eight o’clock. Buffy’s brow wrinkled as she tried to care. The vision of Spike’s face buried between her thighs was too distracting. Closed eyes focused her attention completely on his energetic fingers and tongued suction.
“Spike…”
“Yes love?”
“I think I may need the big stir stick…”