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Part four.....
She felt a chill race up and down her spine at the
sound of his voice, and the tears
that she had been
holding back since the day she lost him, finally began
to fall...scalding, healing tears.
Catching
her breath on a ragged sob, she released
her hold on Angel's shirt and slowly turned around.
"Hello, cutie," he
said quietly, then smiled at her. A
smile she'd never hoped to see again, outside of her
dreams.
Everyone in
the office held their breath, waiting
to see what would happen next, and the slayer
didn't disappoint them.
Her
feet barely touched the floor as she ran across
the room and flung herself into Spike's outstretched
arms so hard that
they both nearly ended up toppling
to the ground.
When she felt him gathering her up into a tight em-
brace,
she really began to cry. Noisily, harshly, she
sobbed so hard that her entire frame was trembling
from the force of
her emotional breakdown.
"Shh," he soothed her. "S'all right, luv...don't cry
anymore. It's all over...I've got
you now..."
As he held her and whispered words of comfort and
love, Buffy clung to him, afraid to let go. She'd
had
this dream before and it had always ended sadly, with
him fading slowly from her arms, no matter how
desperately
she tried to hold on to him.
But not this time. She wasn't going to lose him
again, wasn't about to let anything
come between
them, try to separate them.
**********************************
Spike looked across the top
of her head at Angel,
who was standing about ten feet away. Try as he
might, he couldn't work up the smallest amount
of
sympathy for the stupid git.
He allowed himself to display a toned down version
of the usual contemptuous smile
he reserved for
his grand sire, adding just a touch of the old "to
the victor belongs the spoils" attitude.
"Tried
to tell you," he said. "You can't keep her
from me."
Angel glared at him, clearly in pain at the sight
in front
of him. "And I told YOU she's not mine to
keep...or..."
"That's right," Spike interjected before Angel could
finish
his sentence. "She's mine." He felt Buffy
nodding her head against his shirt front, agreeing
wordlessly to his pronouncement...confirming
his
claim.
Wanting to get her away from all the curious stares
and prying eyes, he spotted Harmony still standing
behind
her desk. "Give me the card to P-3, Harm."
She looked at Angel, who merely nodded, then
yanked open a drawer and
fished around inside
of it, finally locating a rectangle of plastic about
the size and shape of a credit card.
Handing
the key card to Spike, she said, "We'll
probably have to get it cleaned and fumigated after
you two get through with
it."
Buffy finally spoke up. "Harmony," she said, wiping
her eyes on the back of her hand, "you make one
more
crack like that...and I'll stake you just for
target practice."
Spike chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
"Yeah,
there's my little warrior," he murmured, taking in her
scent. "I knew she was in there somewhere."
He
turned her around, intending to walk her over to
the elevator, but he had only taken one step when
he realized that
the situation called for something much
more dramatic. A statement needed to be made, and
he was just the vampire to
make it.
Bending a little, he swept Buffy up in his arms and
carried her to the elevator that Fred was holding
open
for them.
Pausing before he entered the lift, he regarded
her with a steady gaze. "S'pose I have you to thank
for
this."
She shrugged. "It needed to be done," she said,
then looked at Angel. "For everybody's sake."
Buffy
sniffled a little, her arms locked around Spike's
neck. "Are... you Fred?" she asked.
Her glasses sliding down
a little on her nose, the
woman wearing a white lab coat nodded. "That
would be me."
"Thank you for calling
me," Buffy said softly. "I
owe you."
"Double for me, pet," Spike added, carrying Buffy
into the elevator. Fred
released the 'hold' button
as Spike caught sight of Angel, still standing there
staring at them like a big, dumb statue.
**
Looks like the best vamp won after all, doesn't
it?**
Unable to resist the temptation, he bent his head
and captured
Buffy's lips with his own, framing the
two of them between the elevator's slowly closing
doors, like a curtain coming
down after the final
act of a play.
"Eeeww," Harmony whined, making a face. "That's
just gross."
Angel
said nothing about it. Turning around
after the elevator doors were fully closed, he
went back into his office and
shut the door
with finality.
Fred took a deep breath and followed after him,
but when she tried to turn the doorknob
she
discovered that it was locked.
"Oh, well, that's VERY mature, Angel," she
said beneath her breath.
************************************************
The
elevator went straight to the top floor of
Wolfram and Hart, and it's passengers were
still kissing when the doors parted.
It
opened into a short corridor. There were two
doors to the left, and one on the right; doors
labeled 'P-1, P-2, and P-3'.
Spike set Buffy on her feet in front of door
number 3. Inserting the key card, he unlocked
the door and ushered
her inside.
After re-locking the door behind them, he
took her into the sitting room of a very
elaborate and
expensively decorated suite.
Holding on to her hand, he tugged her across
the room to a sofa in front of a large
picture
window.
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, dragging
her heels. "Get away from the window."
Spike
grinned and released her hand, stepping
directly in front of the glass. "Not a problem,"
he assured her. "Special glass.
Totally sun
proof."
Buffy smiled back at him, and he immediately
reclaimed her hand and pulled her down on the
sofa
next to him.
For a few moments, all they could find it in them
to do was stare at each other, each of them drinking
in
the sight of someone they'd thought was gone
forever.
Buffy was the first to break the silence.
"I missed
you," she said softly. "So much. I kept
thinking about you, thinking I would see you
again. Sometimes...I would forget,
or just push
it to the back of my mind...that you were gone.
And...and I would see something and I'd think,
'Oh,
I'll have to tell him about that when I see
him'...and then I'd remember that...that I wasn't
going to see you...ever
again."
She was purposely not giving him a chance to
say anything at this point, wanting to be the one
to start
them on the road back to where they both
needed to be. He had done his part when it came to
the declaration of his
feelings, and now it was her
turn.
She had left it too late before, and had paid a
brutal price for it. There
was no way she was going
to make the same mistake again.
"Look at me," she demanded, holding his face in
her
hands. Gazing into his eyes, she held nothing
back. "I love you," she said deliberately, then said
it again for good
measure. "I...love...you! And I'm
going to spend all the time I have left in this world
convincing you of it. I will
MAKE you believe me."
He smiled at her, and turned his head to kiss the
soft palm of her right hand. "I do believe
you," he
said, his eyes moving over her body. "But don't let
that stop you from trying to convince me, luv."
Buffy
hid her laughter, loving the fact that no matter
what had happened, Spike was still....Spike.
Apparently, he was
feeling playful, which was just
fine with her. Things had been far too serious, for
far too long...and she was tired
of it. They could
discuss what was going to come next later, but
for right now....
Moving closer to him, she
leaned forward and began
to leave soft, tender kisses on his cheeks, his jaw,
his lips.
"You're my champion,
Spike," she whispered. "You
saved the world....again...and I think it's time I
thanked you for it."Part
5
"Do you know one of the things...that I regret the
most?" Buffy asked, pulling away for air.
Spike continued
nuzzling and kissing the side of her
cheek, whispering soft words of love in her ear. "What's
that, love?"
She
nudged him away a little, wanting to look into his
eyes when she told him. "That last night we had to-
gether...we should
have made love."
He looked at her, surprised by her choice of words. Buffy
had never once referred to their sexual
liaisons as
"making love". Privately, to himself, he'd never thought of
it as anything else. Sure, he put on the "Hey,
we're just
shagging for the fun of it" facade around her. A man had to
preserve his pride...and his feelings. But deep
inside of him,
in a place he never showed anyone else, he always thought
of their encounters as lovemaking...even the
ones that
bordered on violence.
Cupping her cheek in his hand, he leaned closer and
said, "Let's make love
now."
The words made Buffy's entire body sit up and take
notice. Anticipating sex, fantastic sex, it did all the
right
things to prepare for it.
Her breathing deepened, and her skin tingled. There was
a loose, moist feeling
between her thighs. Her breasts felt
heavier, more sensitive against the scratchy lace of her
bra.
All in all,
she felt highly overheated and wanted to get
rid of her clothing as fast as she possibly could.
Glancing over at
the door, she frowned slightly. "No
one else has one of those keys, do they?"
Spike stood up and shrugged off
his coat impatiently.
"I'll kill anyone who walks through that door," he
promised her, pulling her to her feet.
Without hesitating, she reached for the buttons of his
shirt and began undoing them rapidly.
Amazed at
her forwardness, Spike watched, a tiny
smile playing on his lips. This was going to be damn
good.
Buffy pushed
his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders
and down his arms, dropping it heedlessly to the
floor. She reached for the
hem of his t-shirt, making
quick work of it's removal as well.
Before she continued, she snagged one finger in
his
belt and yanked him closer. Using her
free hand, she reached down and fondled the huge
bulge in the front of his jeans.
Gasping for air he had no use for, Spike placed
one hand over hers and pressed down more firmly.
"Harder," he
begged. "Please."
She gave him what he wanted. Curving her
fingers around him, she rubbed and squeezed.
just
enough to please him without causing pain.
When he took his hand away, she began to
undo his belt. The buckle gave
her a little trouble
at first, but she was diligent and was soon yanking
the leather strap out of the belt loops of
his jeans.
Spike decided that it was time he began to con-
tribute to the moment. It had been so damn long
since
he'd touched her this way, so long that his
hands were almost shaking with eagerness.
Buffy could relate.
Her
own fingers became clumsy when he began
to tug her blouse from the waistband of her slacks.
The fabric was silky and
sheer, and he enjoyed
running his hands over it, but was eager to move on
to even softer territory.
She lifted
her arms and allowed him to pull her
shirt off and over her head, mussing her hair in a
way he loved to see it. The
ecru colored demi-bra
she was wearing revealed far more than it concealed,
and he had to stop and admire the sight of
her nicely
rounded breasts being lifted and cradled by the lace
of her undergarment.
"Beautiful," he muttered,
reaching behind her to
unfasten the bra.
The act made Buffy smile at the memory of him
doing just this so
many times before. Spike had always
preferred her back fastening bras; he enjoyed the
little ceremony of sliding his
hands behind her and
opening it by touch alone while he pulled her closer
to him.
The hooks were released and
the garment fell away.
Buffy felt her breasts settle into his wonderfully tender
grasp.
Feeling his hands on
her body again was making her
light headed. As always, he knew just what touches
drove her crazy and he didn't stint
on giving them to
her.
Her eyes widened as they stared into his, and her lips
parted as she tried to speak.
"Tell me," he urged, squeezing gently.
"It's just...I missed this so much. The way you touch
me. The things
you do. I was...I was afraid I'd have
to live the rest of my life and never...never feel this
way again."
Spike
grinned, a little arrogantly. "Well, you can
put THAT fear right out of your mind. I'm back
now, baby...and I'm planning
to make up for all that
lost time."
His tone amused her. This was one of the things
she loved about him, his
"I'm the only man for you,
Slayer, and you never had it as good as me" attitude.
Once upon a time, it had pissed her
off mightily...es-
pecially when she'd begun to realize that it was
true.
"Promises, promises," she said, licking
her lips.
Eyebrows arched, he responded by pushing her
breasts together and lifting them. Then, without
breaking
eye contact, he lowered his head and ran
his tongue wetly over the hardened tips. Lightly,
teasingly, he tortured her.
Buffy's skin felt flushed and sensitive. Her breath
hitched in her chest when he pinched her nipples
between
his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently.
Having her breasts fondled and kissed was one of
Buffy's favorite parts
of foreplay. Spike knew this,
and always acted accordingly. She could remember
times when he had spent a good hour
doing nothing
more than play with her breasts in various ways.
Slipping one hand behind his neck, she whispered
one
word; "More."
"Anything for you, baby," he said, knowing what
she was asking for. Opening his mouth, he took
her
right breast in and began to suck at it, softly
at first, then voraciously.
Buffy squirmed and whimpered under
this assault,
spurring him on to greater efforts. He moved back
and forth, from one side to the other, showing no
favoritism.
He alternated from kissing to licking and
then sucking, as though unable to decide what he
enjoyed most.
She
enjoyed it all. It didn't take long until she was
a mindless, writhing bundle of pure sexual pleasure.
When he
finally pulled back, her chest was damp
and shiny, her nipples hard as pebbles.
Buffy immediately moved forward
and performed
the same service for him. Her tongue darted out and
drew wet circles around the tight coppery discs on
his
chest.
After a few seconds, Spike buried his fingers in her
hair and made her look at him. When their eyes
met,
they reached simultaneously for the fastenings of each
other's pants.
Top snaps popped open. Zippers were
tugged down.
Shoes and socks were toed off, and two pairs of
jeans hit the floor...one black, the other blue.
Buffy
stood clad in a pair of lace panties, Spike in
nothing at all.
She was incredibly wet. He was beautifully hard.
Made for each other....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taking Buffy's right hand, Spike
brought it up to
her face. "Lick it," he ordered her.
She looked at him for a moment, then extended
her little
pink tongue and delicately licked her
palm.
"No," he said, his eyes hot with lust. "Really lick
it. Make it
wet."
Willingly, she followed instructions, then sucked
in a harsh breath when he placed her hand on the
rigid
length of his shaft and began sliding her wet
fingers up and down.
"Ohhh...fuck," he groaned softly, closing his
eyes
for a moment. "That's it...harder..."
Buffy moved a little closer. Pressing her cheek
against his chest,
she looked down to watch her
hand as it pumped his erection. When a pearly
drop of semen formed at the tip, she smeared
it
around the head, making it slick.
Spike's hand glided down her back, caressing
her heated skin as she played
with him. When
he reached her bottom, he took a handful of it and
squeezed. "You still have the prettiest ass I've
ever
seen, Slayer."
She accepted the compliment, rewarding him by
sliding her hand further between his legs and
cupping
his sensitive balls.
He hissed in air through clenched teeth, but when
her hand grew bolder in it's caress, he
was forced
to push it away before he embarrassed himself
by doing something he hadn't done since he'd been
an adolescent.
Pushing her down on the couch, he dropped to his
knees before her and spread her legs wide apart.
He lowered
his head between her splayed thighs
and began tonguing her roughly.
Buffy's nails dug into the sofa cushion. Her
head
dropped back and she started to pant, making soft
little kitten sounds in her throat.
Spike went at her
with hard laps of his tongue, a
starving man at a banquet. He located the hot
button with unerring accuracy, an act
he had
perfected during long, lazy hours of practice, and
sucked it greedily.
Her hips shot up as her hands
groped blindly for
him, caressing his hair.
When he felt the gentle touch, he shoved his tongue
up into her,
forcing it as deeply as it would go, then
moving it around.
"Do you like that?" he asked, pulling away for a
moment.
"Want my tongue? Want me to fuck you
with it?"
Buffy could only nod.
"Or," he went on, "would you rather
have my cock?"
She was in no state of mind to make difficult
decisions. "You choose."
Spike chuckled,
deciding for her. "Come on down
here and let's roll around on the floor a little."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He went down on her again, making sure she was
as wet as she could ever hope to be.
When he sensed her
imminent orgasm, he
lifted his head and moved up her body, wedging
his hips in the V of her legs.
Rubbing himself
against her, he instructed her
to open her eyes and look at him.
"Did you like touching my cock?" he asked.
Buffy
nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Want it inside you?"
"Yeah-huh."
He knew she did. He could feel it, and smell it.
Her
scent was making him salivate. Positioning the
head of his cock, he started to push it in.
Her hips jerked
and lifted, wanting more.
She was ready, so he strengthened his thrust,
gliding all the way in.
So tight.
She was always so damn tight...fucking
ALWAYS. Almost like a virgin.
The clinging caress of her sex was threatening
his
control. This wasn't going to last long for
either of them, this new "first time" that they
were experiencing. It
had been too long, and
he loved her too much.
He heard her soft cries as he began thrusting
in and sliding back
out.
He felt her legs twining around his waist.
He tasted salt and sweat, the flavor that was
uniquely
her's.
He saw her face slacken, and her eyes become
unfocused.
He smelled the heady musk of her desire.
The last vestige of his self control abandoned
him. With a harsh grunt, he pumped in and
out of her, burying
his face against her soft
throat.
Buffy cried out, bucking her hips.
Lost in the moment, with no hope of
slowing
down, he began thrusting faster and harder.
"Buffy," he choked. "Oh, Buffy...I love you...God,
so much..."
"Spike....yes...I...I love...you...always..."
The words completely undid him. Clutching her
tighter, he
delivered his final thrusts.
"Coming...Buffy...do it...yeah...oh, yeah...come
on...do it for me...now, baby...now...ah,
fuck..!"
"...Spike.."
"Yeah...that's my girl...you're coming so good. That's
it...such a...such a good
girl...ahhh...squeeze me
tight...yeah...just like that....again..."
The pursuit of pleasure ended spectacularly,
enhanced
by the knowledge that it was only just beginning.
Part 6
"You all right, love?"
"I don't remember the last time I was this all right."
Pushing up with
his hands, he tried to remove his weight
from her, but she wouldn't allow it.
"Stay," she urged. "I don't want
you too far away from
me."
Spike smiled and gave her what she wanted. Moving
slightly to one side, he slipped
one arm behind her
and kept her close, then snuggled his face against
her neck.
"Watch it, vampire," she teased,
feeling him kiss
the beat of her pulse. "This isn't a snack bar."
He chuckled. "Sure, it is. I just snacked on
you,
didn't I?"
"You did," she agreed. Tilting his face up, she
nipped at his chin. "So...when do I get to
snack on
you?"
The question alone made him instantly hard. If he'd
allowed his mind to formulate the image it
invoked,
he wouldn't be coherent enough to reply.
So, he rolled off her and scooped her up from the
carpet.
Carrying her across the room, he kicked open
a door that led into a spacious bedroom, with a bed
so big it looked like
two king sized mattresses pushed
together.
Buffy was about to comment on the size of the play-
ground he was
taking her to, when she found herself
being tossed into the middle of it. "Hey" she squealed,
collapsing with laughter
when he jumped on the bed
and stood over her like a conquering warrior about to
plant a flag.
She had forgotten
how much fun Spike could be when
he was in the mood for it. No one had ever made her
laugh the way he did, not Riley
and certainly not Angel.
But Spike was so full of the enjoyment of living, so to
speak, that he frequently dropped
his evil vamp per-
sona with her and turned into a charmingly mischievous boy
who delighted in driving her crazy.
Even
sex could be wonderfully amusing sometimes, when
he was feeling particularly playful. She remembered times
when they
would be in the middle of a deeply passionate
encounter, only to have him start reciting dirty jokes and
the filthiest
limericks she'd ever heard. He'd defended this
behavior by telling her that he liked the way it felt being
inside of
her when she laughed.
The first time he'd done it, she had scolded him for it,
telling him that sex wasn't supposed
to be funny. He had
looked her right in the eye and asked, "Says who?" in a
challenging tone of voice, then gone on
to commiserate
with her over the obvious lack of imagination her previous
lovers had displayed. Had it always been "the
same old
thing time after time?" he'd asked her.
Well....yes. Actually, it had been.
With Angel, she'd
only had one night, and having been
a virgin, she'd had nothing to compare him to. The
experience had been painful
and pleasurable both, but
he'd been afraid of hurting her, so he'd stuck to the basics
and never really released his
own full passion.
Her mistake with Parker had been so humiliating that
she hated to reflect on it in any way, and
had largely
forgotten his well used bag of tricks.
Riley...well, Riley had been...dependable. Kind of like
riding
a bicycle...you had to do a little work, but even-
tually it got you where you wanted to go. Problem was,
the longer
their relationship had gone on, the more
dependable...and predictable...he had become. By the
time they were on the
downhill slide, she'd begun to
think he was operating with a mental checklist; doing
everything in order, and allowing
so much time for this
and so much for that.
When she'd looked back on things later, she'd been
slightly appalled
when she'd come to the realization
that Riley had been sort of...dumb...when it came to
the subject of their sex life.
There'd been nights when
he'd reached orgasm way before she was even in the
vicinity, and he'd never seemed to notice
that he
wasn't satisfying her. How many times had she gotten
up to go in the bathroom, needing to bring herself some
kind
of release, then come back to bed to find him
snoring like a grizzly bear in the middle of a winter
hibernation?
Spike
had coaxed this information out of her one night
when her defenses were down, laughing like a hyena
when she'd mentioned
her "that was relaxing" comment
to Riley after she'd actually managed to reach climax.
He'd then gone on to give
her the most "un" relaxing
climax she'd ever experienced. She'd nearly had to be
scraped off the ceiling afterwards,
and her toes hadn't
uncurled for an hour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grinning like a fiend,
he bounced on the bed a couple
of times, which made certain parts of him bounce as
well.
Although she tried
to hold it in, she couldn't, and
laughter exploded out of her.
Spike, having the confidence in himself not to be
offended, laughed with her, then dropped to his knees
and pounced.
Landing pretty much on top of her, he kissed
her
long and hard.
Lying beneath him, she chalked up yet another
comparison where Riley had been found want-
ing;
he'd been too damn big. Well over six feet,
his body had been uncomfortably heavy. Worse
still, when they had made love
he had been so
far above her head that she'd usually have her
face in the middle of his chest.
Spike was the
prefect size for her. Average
height, with a slimmer build than both Riley and
Angel, he never made her feel like she
was
trapped under a fallen redwood.
"Did you really miss me?" he asked. His tone
was deceptively light, but
she understood without
being told what he needed to hear.
"I missed you like crazy," she assured him,
looking
purposefully into his eyes. "Would I have
come looking for you if I hadn't?"
He tilted his head, a gesture that
never failed
to make her smile.
"Hey...why didn't YOU come looking for ME?"
she asked, suddenly quite serious.
"Was it...was
it because you thought I didn't love you?"
"Noooo," he drawled. "Because your thick
headed ex
told me you were somewhere in
Europe."
"Europe?" she echoed. "Oh, this time I really
AM going to kill him."
"And I'll hold him for you while you do."
"He knew exactly where I was." Anger was be-
ginning to simmer
inside of her, making her
irritated all over again with Angel's high handed
behavior in keeping things from her.
"It
doesn't matter now," Spike said, smoothing
her hair back. "Sooner or later I'd have found my
way home."
Home!
He'd said it. She was home to him. And
speaking of home....
"Come back with me?" she blurted out. "You
don't
have to stay here anymore. Not if you don't
want to."
She was preparing her persuasion speech when
he took all
the wind out of her sails.
"Where are we going?"
Buffy smiled. That had certainly been easy. "Up
the coast.
Monterey."
"Not much sun up there," he mused.
"Hardly any at all."
"You might have noticed I DON'T
need to be
talked into this."
Spotting a phone on the night stand, she tried
to pick it up.
"Who are
you calling?"
"Airport. We can hop a night flight out of there
and be home in an hour."
A smile tugged
at the corners of his mouth.
"I've got a better idea."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Are
you sure about this?"
"Positively sure. Now, hop in."
Buffy climbed into the passengers seat, watching
as
Spike yanked a handful of wires loose from under
the dashboard of a shiny black Mustang fastback,
circa 1968.
"Where'd
you learn how to do this?"
"Years of practice," he replied, twisting two of
the wires together. The engine caught
with a
roar of power, at the same moment that Buffy pulled
down the visor and caught a set of keys in one
hand.
Spike looked at her in surprise. "How did you..."
"Angel always kept his keys there," she shrugged.
"Well,
if you knew that then why didn't you speak
up?"
"And spoil your fun? Why, I wouldn't dream of it."
Spike
shook his head and threw the car into drive.
Five minutes later, they were on Highway 101...head-
ing north.
Heading
for home...
The End
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