Chapter 9
It was about as perfect a day so far as Spike could remember, certainly since he was chipped. He had his Buffy with him, no distractions, just him and her and the rest of the world be damned for the day. He’d managed to curb his sarcasm for once and not saying anything to cause her to flee and she’d kept her insults to a minimum.
And the sex. There was none of the hit and run, slam, bam, thank you ma’am, stuff they had done in the past. Instead they’d shagged each other silly throughout the morning, punctuated by cuddling while they talked and laughed and explored one another. He considered whether he needed to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming and the thought had flitted across his mind more than once that Red must have fallen off the wagon and caused another spell to go wonky, because he had never been with this Buffy before. He wondered, if it was a spell, if he could convince her not to reverse it, because he really liked this version. It was something like having the Bot, in the sense that she was open and kind to him, but so much better, because this was the real thing, complete with her edge and wit, her underlying insecurities and fears, and the beauty of her smile that the Bot had never quite been able to replicate.
He stared down at her, lost in his thoughts, as she pulled him down for another long lingering kiss. They’d just completed another round where the more passive Buffy from last night had reasserted herself, but he didn’t feel used like he normally did. As their tongues tangled around one another, he heard an odd gurgling noise. Buffy started giggling against his mouth. “What was that?” she smirked at him.
“Ha, bloody, ha – it’s my stomach rumbling, pet. Must be the proximity to all that luscious, warm, pumping Slayer blood.” He leered at her and swiped his tongue up the vein in her neck.
Buffy knew she should probably be repulsed, he was after all talking about her blood as food as he ran his mouth over her jugular, but instead she realized she was a little turned on, again. Geez, Buffy, since when did you want to become a buffet for the undead? But she couldn’t help but remember the connection she had felt when Angel had sunk his fangs in her, and not in a gentle way, almost draining her dry. She’d bet Spike would be much more gentle than that and could take just a little if she let him.
Suddenly, she realized where this train of thought was going. Whoa, Buffy, what are you thinking, you can’t let him bite you She jerked back to reality as she realized he was still lightly licking her throat in what she had to admit was a very non-threatening and arousing manner. Wait, is he putting me under some sort of thrall? Is this how they lure a victim in? She jerked his head back, harder than she meant to, and rolled to the other side of the bed, panting heavily, refusing to look at him. Spike sighed, realizing he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have. But at least she hadn’t punched him, or run away. He needed to repair this situation, and fast.
“Luv, wait here a minute, I have something for you.” With that, he turned and strode up the stairs to the top of his crypt. Buffy waited, thoughts racing as she paced around the lower half of his crypt. Part of her wanted to leave right now and forget this weird game she’d come up with. He was a vampire. He would drink her blood if he could.
But that was the thing. He could drink her blood. She was the one person in the world he could bite with no pain and he’d held her all night long, twice now, while she slept. And he’d never touched her, never tried to bite her. She sighed. She knew he’d just been playing with her now as he licked at her neck. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t turn her down if she were to offer her blood. But that’s what it would take, her free will offer, for him to do that to her. She realized that she trusted him with this and reassured, she returned to the bed, wrapping herself in the sheet sarong style as she waited for his return with whatever he’d run off for.
He surprised her when he returned with the peace offering of the stash of snacks he gotten for her. She realized his wasn’t the only stomach rumbling and she grabbed some fruit and a water from the bundle he placed in front of her. They sat in companionable silence, not really looking at one another, as he’d drank his blood and she polished off some more food. He finally broke the silence with an apology. “Bu…… Guinievere, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He started and stopped as her fingers settled against his mouth.
“It’s all right, I know,” she told him, then replaced her fingers for a soft, light kiss. As she pulled back, she grinned at him.
“How about I kick you butt in a little friendly game of cards?” She pulled the deck she had found laying on his bookshelf out from under the covers and waved them in front of him, lightening the mood.
Spike smirked at her as he felt the earlier tension lift. “Well, luv, what are the stakes? I don’t play for peanuts.”
He knew he’d beat her. He had years of experience and he doubted Buffy knew much beyond the basics. She smirked back and announced the winner had to answer whatever question the loser wanted honestly.
Spike agreed to the bet and dealt the first hand. As he’d suspected, she was bloody awful, with no poker face, but as the game proceeded, she kept shifting and fidgeting, and the sheet wrapped around her started a slow slide that soon left her top bare to his gaze. Despite the fact he’d spent a good deal of the morning in contact with said bosom, he found himself paying more attention to her perky nipples, which had hardened as he watched, than to the cards in his hand. She won the round. He narrowed his eyes as he realized her little strategy, and decided to bring his own assets into play.
As he dealt the next hand, he flexed his muscles and posed himself across the bed, trailing his hand across his chest and well defined abs as he discarded a pair and reached to draw two cards from the deck. He felt some triumph at the slightly glazed look in Buffy’s eyes as she followed his hand but then realized he had accomplished very little. As she also requested two cards, she raised up, shimmying slightly as she reached for the cards from him, a completely unnecessary gesture, but one which caused the sheet to fall from her totally, leaving her nude body stretching across towards him entirely exposed. He blanked out entirely as he handed her the cards and lost that hand as well.
All right Spike, bring out the big guns, er gun, he thought to himself as he prepared the next hand. He rapidly dealt the cards, but before he could decide his next move, he was distracted by the soft moan from the other side of the bed. Buffy was staring intently at the cards in her hand, as though the answers to the world were written in which she should keep and which she should discard. But despite her apparent concentration on that hand, he found his mouth grow dry as he watched what her other was doing. She was slowly massaging the nipple of one breast that he had admired earlier, lightly pulling on the small nub, small murmurs of pleasure escaping from her throat as she did so. He continued to watch in fascination, game completely forgotten, as she moved to tease her other nipple in a similar fashion, all the while staring intently at the cards.
Buffy watched out of the corner of her eye at Spike’s rapt attention on her. She knew she almost had him, and hoped he would jump her pretty soon and admit she’d won her little game. Besides, she was so ready for him. She was going to have to make him watch more often, this was actually kind of fun to see him get all hot and bothered from watching her. She prepared for the deal sealer as she let her hand drift from her breasts southward and slid two finders between her legs, letting out a slow moan as she did so. She didn’t have to wait long, because she felt the cards go flying as Spike leaped across the bed and pounced on her. She heard his low growl as he pulled her hand up and licked her fingers clean, then replace them with him much larger cock, driving himself in to her hot depths in one stroke as she gripped him tightly. Her climax was not long in coming and his followed on her heels as Buffy broke into uncontrollable giggles.
Spike lifted his head from his comfortable resting spot on her breasts where he had collapsed.
“What’s so funny, kitten?”
“Nothing,” Buffy replied, “I’m pretty sure I just won, but I think we both got the prize.”
He smiled back and pecked her lips, then decided to pay up. How bad could a little Q & A be? He could always find ways to distract her if things got uncomfortable. He propped himself against the headboard, pulled her onto his lap and took a deep breath. “All right, luv, what do you want to know?”
She stroked his cheek and he was surprised when she asked him to tell her about Lancelot when he was a little boy. That wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting, but suddenly, he realized that he was fine with her knowing more about William, as least something about the man he’d been. So he obliged her, telling her about his younger sister, the small home they shared with their parents, his first year at university. She laughed at some of the tales, grew sad when he told her about his sister’s early passing.
Spike looked down at the bundle in his lap and realized how little he knew about her early days as well. He’d seen some of the albums of photos during that horrible summer after her death, but there were a lot of things Nibblet hadn’t wanted to talk about. So he asked her the same question. She told him about her life pre-Sunnydale, her Dorothy Hamill obsession, her strange planted memories of Dawn that all seemed to fit, her parent’s painful divorce, the trouble she’d started to have in school as her popularity had faded in light of her calling.
After a time, they both drifted into a comfortable silence as he continued to hold her close, sliding a hand up and down her spine, until he finally broke the quiet by commenting that nightfall was coming soon. She pulled away at that statement and shooed him up the stairs. He was a little confused by her directive, but obeyed after she mumbled something about needing a drink because she was so parched.
As he mounted the stairs he could hear her meandering humming as she dug into the bag she had brought with her. She sounded happy, they’d patched up his little faux pas early, so what was she up to? Was she dressing? Was she leaving? Why now? She had promised him until tomorrow. Had he frightened her somehow? He thought William was a pretty frightful little poof, but she’d seemed to enjoy the tales. He quickly retrieved a bottle of water and the wine, along with a few glasses, and descended again to see what she was doing. At the sight that greeted him, he almost broke that bottle he’d been carrying. Buffy stood before him in a pale champagne colored negligee, looking like a goddess. She had brushed her hair out and it lay like spun gold around her face. He knew that if he hadn’t already loved her more than unlife itself, he would have been her slave from that moment on. Somehow, the simple negligee managed to made her look both virginal and seductive at the same time. A shy smile graced her face as she looked up at him and asked quietly, “Do you like it?”
Spike carefully set down the wine and water and walked to take her in his arms. He came very close to calling her Buffy, but remembered in time and reverted to his assigned role to keep this fantasy going a little longer.
“You’re not my Guinevere, you’re Aphrodite, my love goddess. I would never have believed I would rather see you clothed, but you look so bloody amazing, my sweetheart.”
She dimpled and seemed to be pleased with the compliments as he backed her towards the bed and leaned her against the bedpost, drawing her in for a slow kiss as he rucked her gown up to her waist. He sank to his knees as he held her in place and immediately buried his face in her moist heat. The feel of the gown sliding down and cocooning him between her thighs almost made Spike feel drunk and dizzy with the heady taste of her in his mouth. He’d been hard from the moment he saw her, and his first instinct had been to sink himself into this beautiful creature who seemed to want to please him and stay there forever, feeling her muscles drawing him into heaven. But he knew it would be so much better this way.
The combination of the taste of her liquid essence in his mouth, the soft steel of her thighs clasped around him, the breathy moans he could hear her making as she urged him on, the feel of her tight bud quivering under his tongue, all combined to send him into sensory overload. The only thing that could have possibly have improved the moment was for her to have granted permission to taste her, just once, a tiny sip of her blood to mix with the rest of her essence. He persisted until she came, her inner muscles clutching around his fingers so tightly he thought they might break. As he pulled himself from under her gown, he was treated to the sight of his Buffy, flushed and glowing, looking as though he was the only thing in the world she could see at that moment.
She wasted no time but pulled him up and pushed him onto the bed, mounting him, sinking slowly on his hard as nails cock. He watched as she rode him, eyes mostly closed, yet flickering open to watch his face from time to time as he massaged her breasts. She quickened her pace again as he worked his hand under the pool of silk of the negligee and teased her until she came, as he followed close behind. Buffy collapsed against his chest, holding him to her and sighing as she drifted to sleep. He was sure he heard her murmur, “Love you,” as she drifted off, and this time, she didn’t say Lancelot. He tucked that thought away, and pulled her tight as he followed her into the arms of Morpheus.
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They awoke several times more during the night and continued to make love to each other, a slight feeling of desperation gripping both as the hours slipped towards dawn. Sometimes their coupling was faster, sometimes slower, but the emotions and connections between them remained strong, even though they both refrained from any verbal expressions of what they were feeling.
Spike no longer felt as though he was servicing her or a toy she could use to get off with. He realized that he was a man to her for that night, someone she wanted, someone she could love. And he knew that what they had shared was something so powerful that he would never be the same. He was more than a little afraid that wasn’t the case for her, and that when the harsh light of day broke, she would turn on the denial she had perfected to an art. But something deep inside wanted to try to keep this spark alive between them, and he slipped from the bed to grab pen and paper before his idea slipped away, leaving her curled in his bed.
He returned to her warmth as soon he could, still unsure about what he’d done. At some point while he was gone, she’d stripped off the gown so there was nothing between them now as he brought her back into his arms. They lay pressed together, flesh to flesh, from shoulder to ankle, as close as they could get, neither saying a word.
As morning neared, he pulled her leg over his and angled their bodies so he could slide deep within her. He knew she would have to leave soon, and he wanted one more time to remember, in case they never played this game again. He took her slowly, making each move, each thrust, each slide of body against body count, until they both reached long, deep orgasms that shimmered through them. He could hear her quiet sobs as they slowly came down and he kissed her face over and over.
He didn’t need to ask why she was crying. He knew and he wanted to weep with her for what had been and might never be again. But the Big Bad didn’t cry, even if he felt he’d lose a part of himself forever when she walked out after tonight, a part he wasn’t sure she’d ever return. Parting was sweet sorrow and the lark would soon sing and this little idyll would be over and she would be gone. He pulled her close and stroked her back as they drifted off one last time.
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Buffy slowly opened her eyes and realized time was up. Game over. She looked at his face, softened in slumber next to her and reached over to softly touch his lips.
His eyes opened and he knew the answer as he asked the question. “So you’re going then?”
She nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. Buffy was afraid if she kissed him or touched him again she would lose the battle, break down in front of him and sob out that she hated this ridiculous game she’d made them play. She was so stupid to think she could solve anything this way. He’d made her feel more love and more alive than she ever had, and this vampire wasn’t supposed to make her feel those things, wasn’t supposed to be capable of feeling those things himself.
She turned away from him before she broke down and left the bed. Buffy mechanically pulled her clothes from the duffle, a simple pair of jeans and a top. She carefully folded the sundress and underwear he’d left laying on the chair, but noticed that he was holding the negligee she discarded on the bed.
“Love, can I keep this?” he swallowed, staring down at the gown and not meeting her gaze.
She nodded. Taking it with her would only bring back too many memories she wasn’t sure she could bottle up. She knew for a fact she could never wear that particular garment for another man. Buffy walked over to Spike, still lying on the bed, and stood before him, not touching him, just being with him, breathing him in one last time.
“I have something for you,” he said and reached under his pillow for a slim envelope. That explained where he’d gone to in the night, Buffy thought. She took the missive, which had Guinevere written on the front in his somewhat old-fashioned script.
“Read it when you get home.”
She nodded yet again, still unsure of her ability to use words.
“Right then, I’ll walk you out.” Spike rose from the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, then put his hand on the small of her back and walked her to the door in the upper portion of his crypt. They stopped just short of the reach of the rays of the early morning light and Spike dropped to his knees before her, much like he had when he’d first greeted her in the graveyard.
Buffy bit her lip so hard she could feel the skin break as she stared down at his beautiful face. He presented such a different picture to her now, his hair rumpled from her caresses, his eyes still soft and loving, not hard and cold as they could be at times. She dared to reach out and run one finger along his sharp cheekbone as he reached to take her hands in his.
Spike waited until she met his eyes, then prepared to speak, trying hard to keep the waver out of his voice. He had to get this right, had to make her see that no matter what, she could always come back to him. He cleared his throat and began.
“Guinevere, you know I love you with all my heart. I know that I’m not worthy of you. But, luv, please remember, I may be a dark knight but I’m yours to command, whenever and wherever. Whatever you need, love, affection, sex, an ear to listen, someone to play with or someone to cry with, I’m yours, until the end of the world.”
He refused to meet her eyes again, just dropped a quick kiss on both her hands, then turned and descended into the lower half of the crypt without looking back.