Chapter 7
Spike arrived at the Anderson crypt first and sat on the bench outside, observing the moonlit sky and fingering the delicate flowers in his hands. He detected a small noise and turned, seeing Buffy coming towards him, a vision in something long and white as she floating across the graveyard, her golden hair under the moonlight a counterpoint to the darkness. Then suddenly, a small movement off to her right caught his attention. A vampire had struggled out of its grave and was now striding towards the Slayer.
“Well, it has sharp teeth, suppose it will do for a dragon,” Spike muttered.
“My lady,” he called, watching as Buffy turned to him and smiled.
Momentarily he was distracted by the brightness of that smile, but quickly jumped up as he realized he needed to save her – she wasn’t the slayer tonight – he was her knight and protector. He streaked past her and with a few swift blows dispatched the vampire into a cloud of dust. He turned to find Buffy behind him, stake in hand, and quickly knelt at her feet.
“My lady Guinevere.”
“My brave Sir Lancelot,” she replied, suddenly very happy he had decided to play.
He looked up at her with a smile of pure happiness that Buffy wasn’t sure she had ever seen the like of which split Spike’s face. The game had begun.
Spike rose to his feet and drew his Slayer across the grass to the crown of flowers which waited on the bench.
“Guinevere, I brought you this small token of my affection.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in and to gauge her reaction.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” she responded, a little amazed at his courtly manner. Was this the same snarky Spike who hustled pool and tormented Xander?
He placed the crown of flowers on her curls, then slid his hands down her face, cupping her chin as he slowly leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. He stepped back, offered her his arm, took her bag and led her back to his crypt.
Buffy’s heart raced a little as she felt the tingles from the soft kiss and those few light touches. She knew it was ridiculous to react this way. Granted, she hadn’t seen him in over a week, and hadn’t been with him for nearly two, and she’d gotten a little use to the regular lovin’, …er, sexcapades Spike was so eager to engage in. But he’d done it He was following her scenario, complete to slaying a demon and only calling her Guinevere, not Buffy.
And the flowers She’d received flowers before, Riley was good about the traditional relationship trappings, and even Angel in a twisted parody of love had given her roses on Valentine’s. But this charming little crown Spike had placed on her head was both unique and beautiful. Buffy sighed contentedly as they strolled along in a silence unusual to both of them, each loathe to disrupt the moment. This had potential to be a wonderful weekend.
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Spike opened the crypt door and ushered her in to be seated on the couch.
“Would my lady care for a drink?”
“Um, what do you have, Sir Lancelot?” She giggled internally, she really felt a little silly calling him that.
He rattled off a few sodas, juices and water, then casually suggested he also had some wine. Buffy nodded to the final suggestion, then began slowly moving around the crypt.
“I like what you’ve done with your castle,” she commented as he handed her the small glass of wine.
“Thank you luv, would you like the grand tour? I have a cave in the basement.” He quirked his eyebrows ever so slightly and she knew he was referring to her note.
“Maybe in a little bit, I’d like to finish my drink.”
He nodded and pulled her slowly back to the sofa, seating her beside him. Buffy slowly sipped the wine, feeling its warmth as it hit her stomach and she relaxed her head back against the sofa. Slowly, Spike reached out for her empty hand and laid it in his, tracing small, indistinct patterns in her palm. Buffy shivered slightly, enjoying the tiny point of contact that hinted at things to come. She closed her eyes and focused on the tingling sensations that had begun to radiate from his touch.
“So Lady Guinievere, tell me about your day.” Spike leaned back beside Buffy, enjoying the chance to just be with her. It had been quite a while since they’d actually sat and talked, like they had after she had first returned. He’d mostly listened then and he was perfectly content to do so now. He’d enjoyed hearing about what Nibblet was up to, the various ups and downs of her buddies and the joys and tribulations, small and large, that made up her life.
And suddenly, Buffy felt like talking again. She had missed this chance to just chat about her problems with someone who didn’t really offer solutions, just listened and provided comfort. She began to spill about her annoying job and money concerns, Willow’s issues, the upcoming wedding that appeared to be driving the bride and groom nuts and Dawn’s little problem with the light fingers.
As she continued to ramble, Spike said very little, just appropriate murmurs now and then to let her know he was still listening. He never loosened his hold on her hand, just continued to stroke up and down her palm, lulling her. She found herself inching closer until she was tucked against him, leaning into his shoulder. She gradually grew quiet, feeling like a burden had been lifted after getting some of her anger and resentment at the friends and family she loved. They sat that way for more than a few minutes, both deep in thought and the pleasure of each other’s company, and neither seemed inclined to end the moment. Buffy finally broke the spell and looked up to find his fathomless blue eyes staring down into hers.
“I think I’d like to see that cave now,” she murmured.
Smiling, he rose from the sofa, still holding her hand and drew her towards the stairs, directing her to go first. Spike followed Buffy as she descended into the wonderland of muted light and color below. She looked around in awe, taking in the setting of a romantic, slightly gothic, boudoir and realized he’d done all of this for her.
She was distracted from the setting as she felt Spike approach behind her and shivered slightly at his touch when he slowly place his hands on her shoulders, kneading just slightly. A girl could definitely get use to this. She tried to remember the problem with letting Spike coddle her and came up blank at the moment.
” Ummmm, that feels wonderful after a hard days work, um…, manning the kitchen at my castle,” she improvised.
“Well pet, may I have the honor?” He guided her to the bed and directed her to lie across it on her stomach. Buffy had thought she was fairly unwound upstairs snuggled on the sofa, but began to wonder if she might become a pile of goo from all these seductive little touches. He sat on the edge as he began to smooth his hands over her bare shoulders. His fingers glided ever so lightly over her exposed skin, to the edges of the dress, and then back again, in a sliding motion that was hypnotic. He was barely touching her, but she felt so relaxed and languid.
“My lady, do I have your permission to continue?”
Permission to continue, wow, Spike was taking this full tilt.
“Proceed my faithful knight,” Buffy murmured, feeling ready to purr. She generally wasn’t big on being so passive, but this was just too good to stop.
Slowly she felt him reach for the zipper at the back of her dress and draw it down to her waist, then carefully flick open the clasp which fastened her bra. He slid the straps of the dress off her shoulders and then proceeded to massage every inch of her back in long smooth strokes. Buffy was initially soothed by the motions of his hands and the cool contact of skin on hers. But as he continued, gradually growing bolder with his strokes and moving further down her body and round her sides, just barely grazing the edges of her breasts still encased in the loosened bra, she felt her arousal begin to grow.
She made little contented murmurs, urging him to continue his explorations as he moved closer, purring himself as he nuzzled the back of her neck. Slowly he used his blunt teeth to nip lightly at her shoulders and back, moving down her body. He stopped to kiss and lick the small of her back, which he seemed particularly fascinated with. The tingles and buzz of the slayer warning system seemed muted, yet provided additional frissions of sensation from the sparks that seemed to ripple beneath her skin from the contact with his lips, tongue and teeth.
Buffy wondered if minutes or hours had passed in the exploration of what she had never before considered such an erogenous part of her body until Spike finally rolled her over and began to slide the dress from her arms. She was very turned on, but she didn’t feel the urgency to rush things she had felt so often in the past with Spike. The closest thing she could compare this to was the first time with Angel, and the fear and newness of that event had prevented the contented euphoria that seemed to overwhelm her now.
Spike looked into her unfocused and gorgeous hazel eyes that for once were returning his gaze. So often during sex she looked away or closed her eyes, blocking him out, wanting his body but nothing more. He was always afraid at those moments that she was somehow substituting him for Angel, using his cold body in place of the one she could never have. He hated that feeling, that comparison that he had experienced first with Dru and now with her. But tonight was different. He seemed to have reached something inside her, for the look in her eyes was soft and she held his gaze, seeming to really see him, Spike, as he slipped the dress down to her waist.
Her breasts remained covered in the pale pink silk she had selected and Spike recognized that she had made some effort in her appearance before coming to him. He breathed in the beautiful sweet scent that was uniquely hers, her essence, and bent his head to worship. Buffy thrusts her breasts upward, eager for the sensations she knew he would bring, feeling her nipples harden from the cool air and her growing state of arousal, but Spike ignored the plea and began again to nuzzle her face and neck, as he kissed and nibbled at her ear, then her cheek, finally reaching her lips.
Buffy gasped against him, as his tongue slid across her lower lip, seeking entrance into her hot mouth. She welcomed the intrusion and joined the dance of tongues as the kiss deepened. Much like their fights, the kiss seemed to have been choreographed by a master. There was no awkwardness, no bumping of noses or nibbles that were too harsh. Instead, the mating dance between their lips became one of the most erotic experiences Buffy thought she had ever had, as Spike rubbed his silk-covered chest against her sensitized nipples and lightly worked his thigh between hers. He eased back occasionally, letting her draw quick gasps of air, but the kiss continued as his tongue stroked and teased her.
When he finally pulled back and she opened her eyes, he was simply staring at her face, his body still pressing her lightly into the mattress, but not moving. For once, Buffy hesitated to break the spell and demand action, and instead let herself drown in those blue pools that had darkened considerably as he stared at her. One final lingering kiss was bestowed and then Spike began a slow progression down her body.
He seemed fascinated by the silk of her lingerie as he left the cups laying across her breasts and stroked her nipples softly through the material, rolling them in his fingers to induce pleasure just short of pain, then releasing the stiff peaks to softly stroke them again. She could feel the wetness seeping between her legs as he continued to ever so slightly apply pressure at the apex of her thighs with the leg he had wedged between hers, but he seemed to not want to be deterred from his enjoyment of her breasts, even as she wiggled against him, seeking friction to ease the ache she knew he could easily remedy. She had to admit, something about the play of silk between his flesh and hers heightened the sensations as his fingers continued to dance across her peaks, and she wondered if she could cum just from this exquisite and focused stimulation.
She began to think she might soon find out, as he added his talented tongue to the mix. Leaving her breasts draped in the silk, he licked and sucked her mounds, swirling his wet tongue around and around the now damp fabric. She gasped as he drew one nipple into his cool mouth and lightly bit the erect bud, then turned to give similar attention to her other aching breast. Buffy threaded her fingers through his hair and clutched him to her as she softly moaned. He stopped and raised his head at the sound, flashing her that wicked Spike grin that softened into the dazzling look she had begun to mentally tag as William, because he was at his must vulnerable and human when he looked at her that way. Which was not very often.
He briefly snared her lips for another sensuous kiss, taking his time, then sliding down to her neck, licking her pulse points as he pulled the bra away. Oh my, he’s not done yet. He’d never been so quiet or so single-minded in extended foreplay before in their encounters, usually his hands were everywhere at once, driving her to the frenzy she was equally urging him towards, mouthing little nasties that got her more hot and bothered than she liked to admit.
As his lips closed around her now bare nipple once again and his fingers lightly caressed her other breast, she shuddered at the sensations he was drawing out of her. This was the slowest buildup they’d ever had, yet she was almost afraid of reaching the climax, because she wanted this moment to last, teetering on the edge of heaven.
He gave each breast one last long lick with the flat of his tongue that went straight to her core, then shimmied down her belly, taking the dress that she just now realized was still caught at her waist with him as he slowly knelt in the floor by the bed. She felt a flush sweep over her entire body as he descended and she resisted the urge to protest as she lost contact with his body.
Buffy raised up on her elbows, wanting to see his next move as he slowly pulled the dress away and carefully laid it across a nearby chair. The candles had begun to burn low and he watched her face as he began to blow them out, one by one throughout the crypt. She continued to watch him, feeling the cool air blow across her heated flesh as he reached the next to the last candle and extinguished it. Now, one solitary light remained, just enough of a low glow to barely make out his features as he returned to the bed.
He stood before her and their eyes locked as he slowly unbuttoned and slid the shirt from his shoulders. His disrobing had something of the element of a strip tease to it, Buffy thought, as she noted his coy flashes of skin as he moved down each button and the subtle arching of one brow as he caught her hitch of breath when his abs came into view. But the overall feeling was far more intimate then a burlesque show. He turned and laid the garment next to her dress.
She stared at the contrast of color, the white of her dress compared to the black silk of his shirt, and wondered if her life had even been that black and white. If so, it had long ago faded to something far more gray than she felt capable of understanding. She sighed as she looked at the beautiful man before her who had already taken so many pains to make this a memorable evening and made up her mind to return the favor to him. For the first time since he’d asked her permission to begin, she broke the silence they seemed to be observing.
“Sir Lancelot?” she breathed.
“Yes, my Guinievere?” Spike returned to the bed, lying on his side and staring at his love laid out in all her glory. The tiny glow of the one remaining candle danced across her golden shoulders and he found his mouth began to water as he stared at her luscious breasts, now slightly swollen from his earlier attentions, rosy and ripe.
“May I touch you now?”
Spike was jerked from his focus on her pouting nipples as he looked into her eyes, surprised by her request. She often liked to be in control during their encounters, but she rarely if ever asked permission, she simply seized and took and wrung her pleasure from him, and he received in the process. So the gentle request and prospect of her lips softly wandering across his skin as he lay beside her on the bed were almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.
“My heart, you may do with me what you will,” he replied.
Buffy looked at the feast before her, a study in white and black, light and shadow, as he lay next to her clad only in his jeans. Where to start to bring him the kind of pleasure he’d been showering her with? She mimicked some of his earlier moves, beginning with an exploration of his face, stroking his high cheekbones, then running her fingers into his soft hair as she nibbled gently at his ear lobe. She pulled back to enjoy the rumpled curls she had disrupted and then slid her fingers to lightly caress his neck, a zone of particular sensitivity for him. She lingered there briefly, kneeling beside him, connected by only the briefest of touches, watching as his eyes flashed from yellow to blue as she fondled his scar. Satisfied with her next move, she slid down further, and brought his arms over his head, holding them in place as she curled against his chest, clad only in the wisp of pale pink silk that seemed to suit her skin in the flickering candle light.
He permitted her hold, as she began to work in earnest on his neck, first licking intently, then lightly biting at the scar he would always bear. She had discovered how sensitive this area was to him long before, and frequently would score it with her nails or nip it in passing, giving him little jolts of sensation at the height of ecstasy, but she had never spent so much time there or so faithfully mimicked the bite that granted him immortality.
She began to bite harder, punctuated by lavings from her hot tongue, never quite enough to draw blood, but enough to send bolts of pleasure racing though him and hardening his already erect member to the point of near pain in the confining jeans. He tried to control his moan, but he couldn’t and she slowly lifted her head from his neck and gave him a Cheshire Cat grin at wringing this acknowledgment of pleasure from him. He pursed his lips and she returned to kiss him. Spike realized he had lost the plot somewhere along the way, but coherent thought seemed to elude him as she began to slither down his body again
He arched into her touch as she caressed his chest, lightly teasing his nipples, then suddenly she stopped, burrowing around in the bedding until she retrieved her discarded bra. Slowly she worked the silk across him, caressing him with the soft fabric, remembering the pleasure she had felt at the texture of the silk. He felt his erection grow beyond what he had imagined possible and knew he wasn’t going to last with this kind of attention from Buffy. He could control himself when he was directing the action, working her arousal higher and higher, but now the tables had turned, and he wasn’t sure he could draw this out as he wanted to. He figured at most he had this one night to indulge in truly making love to the queen of his heart and he didn’t want to be distracted from that goal, no matter how attractive the inducement.
But then he realized she has reached his jeans. She carefully popped the button as she gently slid her hand over his throbbing cock. She unzipped his pants, and then he felt her hand, still covered in the silk, slide inside and draw him out, stroking him. One hand fastened at the base of his penis, sliding the silky material against his hard flesh as she began to stroke upwards in rhythmic strokes. The other wrapped around his tip, her fingers smoothing the head and teasingly dipping inside his slit, catching a small drop of moisture that rolled onto her fingertip. He watched as she lifted the drop and licked it from her finger, appearing to savor the taste as she returned her hand to tease him further.
Spike groaned again. He wasn’t going to last, he could think of nothing which could distract him from her warm hands and focused gazes. He had to return the focus to her.
“My lady,” he whispered and she turned her head from her rapt observation of his member which continued to twist and jump in her hot hand.
“Let me worship you,” he breathed, “please my love, let me make you soar. Come here to me baby, I’ll make you feel so good.”
Buffy continued to look at Spike inscrutably, then smiled that grin again. Suddenly, without warning, she plunged him into her wet mouth. Spike felt his eyes roll back into his head and tried to focus on football, memories of Harmony nagging, the thought of Giles’ threatening to stake him, anything to dissuade the impending rush he felt as he watch her lips moving up and down on his shaft. He stared at the enticing view of her crooked and crushed crown he had placed on her head that now slipped with every bob of her head.
“Love, no, please, wait.” he begged.
“Baby, come here, let me touch you,” Spike pleaded, attempting to capture her and pull her up beside him. She alluded him and slid to the floor between his knees.
“No, baby, I’m going to touch you, and you are going to come so hard.” She flashed her wicked grin, then returned to her task with a single minded devotion that sent every other thought fleeing from Spike’s mind. She continued to lick and suck him in even deeper, his tip brushing the back of her throat as she relaxed to take him in further. She stroked her silk-covered hand over his balls with just enough pressure to lure him to climax. Spike felt the inevitable pull of his release overtake him and he gave in as she drank him down. She licked him lightly and gave one final soft kiss to the tip of his penis before rising from the floor. Spike wasn’t sure he still had any thoughts at all as he lay back, basking in the afterglow for a moment.
She crawled up beside him and snuggled against the needlessly panting vampire. As he slowed his breathing, she heard the beginnings of the low rumble of a purr she only heard when he was especially content. Her big kitty. She smiled against Spike’s chest, pleased at her success, but clearly seeking further affirmation.
“Did I please you, my faithful knight?” she asked.
Spike could only nod and then turned, capturing her lips in a kiss as he tasted his salt in her mouth. It was his turn to feast on her and he wasted no time, softly stroking her breasts as the kiss deepened. He was certain she was ready for him, that he could slide into her now with no resistance. Clearly her attention to him had added to her excitement. Nonetheless, he wanted the chance to worship between his queen’s thighs and send her into ecstasy a few times before he slid inside her beautiful body.
He slid his hand down, teasing the edge of her silk panties which were now drenched. Her stomach muscles quivered as he slid his fingers under and then out again, each time dipping a little further. He slowly worked the scrap down, as he continued to kiss her passionately, then slid further and knelt between her legs as he pulled them completely off.
For the first time that night, Buffy was entirely naked before him and she felt a slight blush at his worshipful gaze, despite the fact he was quite familiar with her body. He simply stared at her as she lay on the bed, his long, clever hands massaging her feet as he slowly parted her legs and slid his hands up past her calf, up past her knee, up to her inner thighs as her opened her completely to him. Buffy expected another long, teasing, nibbling, expedition until she begged for mercy.
But he had grown impatient for her taste and she inhaled sharply as his face was immediately buried between her legs, to her delight. He started with long broad licks that hit her sensitized nerve endings and made her quiver even more. He began to speak finally, murmurs against her flesh, as his tongue continued to explore. She couldn’t understand the words, if there were any at all, but the vibrations shivered through her as his tongue entered her and his fingers found her clit, gently rubbing. The pressure was light, not quite enough, until he switched and his long, agile fingers stroked her inside as his tongue sucked and laved the sensitive nerves of her sweet spot. She felt the orgasm that had been building from the first kiss against her forehead begin to swell and she almost, almost, screamed his name as she came, but stopped just in time. He lay his head against her thigh and softly blew air against her sensitive flesh, then began the process again. Buffy was already so strung out that the second orgasm ripped through her in a flash, but he refused to give her any time and began to work her again. Buffy felt as though every nerve ending was on fire and was sobbing by the time she crested into her third, and he slid the tip of his cock against her opening.
“Love, open your eyes,” he said, and she found herself unable to resist the command.
Buffy couldn’t help herself, this was beyond the night they brought the house down, beyond the handcuffs and raw fucking that had consumed them in the last few weeks. She locked onto his eyes and felt like she was seeing his heart. He kept his eyes locked to hers as he clasped their hands together and slid, inch by inch, into her.
It was exquisite and she wanted to look away, to shield herself from what she saw in his depths. And then he started to speak. He told her that he loved Guinevere, that she was his heart, his soul, his muse and that he would be hers eternally. The words fell from his lips as he levered himself in and out of her warm depths ever so slowly, with each thrust, he whispered his love and devotion.
He played by the rules she’d set up. He never called her Buffy, but she could see it in his eyes. And suddenly, lying under him, clinched together so intimately and tenderly, she felt something started to crack inside. The shell around her heart that every man in her life had contributed to began to shatter and the feelings she had suppressed for longer than she cared to analyze started to pour out of her lips, almost uncontrollably, as he continued making love to her with strong sure thrusts.
She told him how much his sacrifices had meant to her and how she knew he would sacrifice his kingdom for her and how she admired his acts of chivalry. Her voice was shaky and she found herself wondering if he even knew what she was saying, as her revelations were punctuated by sighs and gasps as rolled his hips against hers in slow, steady pace.
Her fingers clutched at his back and she pulled him tighter, watching the swirling depths of his eyes as he took in her declarations of praise. And then, as she feel their tempo increase and the impending rush of orgasm building, she found herself continuing as she told him how she loved that he’d never left her and that he listened to her and didn’t judge her, just told her like it was. Buffy almost felt as though she was separate from this part of her that was babbling these wild things, until she realized, deep inside, that they were true. The good in Spike, the part that had done all of those things for her, wasn’t someone evil. That part of him, the Lancelot part, was someone she wanted and needed in her life.
And so, as the crescendo hit and they peaked together, clutching and shivering and crying, she whispered, softly, but not too softly, “I love you, Lancelot.” And realized that, at that moment, she meant it.
His eyes searched hers for something for a long moment as the aftershocks rolled though them and then he gave her the William look and kissed her very softly.
“I love you too, Guinevere.”
No further words were exchanged as they wrapped around each other so tightly, she didn’t know where she began and where he ended. The emotional outpouring caught up with them both, and Spike and Buffy drifted into sleep.