A/N: When it rains, it pours. Here’s the second chapter of the mega-update. I didn’t want to leave you guys with just a filler chapter, so I wrote this one too. Enjoy!
~*~
For more than two weeks, everything was the same. The ‘fucked-up bitch’ stayed, despite pretty much everybody’s strenuous objections. Even Buffy was starting to doubt Spike on that one, but she kept her mouth shut. For now, anyway.
They continued the whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed-with-major-sexual-tension thing. Sometimes—no, make that all the time—Buffy wished that they could just consummate the whatever-it-was relationship.
But when they kissed, when they held each other, she could feel the uncertainty they both still had. For her, it was the uncertainty the resulting from having her whole world knocked sideways. For him...well, she wasn’t sure what it was for him. But he was uncertain, that much she could tell. Maybe he was worried she’d go all insane on him if they slept together. Whatever the reason, for now, they were celibate.
Celibate but not strangers. Now that she was in on what Jenkins, Inc. was really for, she was becoming real friends with everyone there, including Spike. Of course, her stomach did the weird flippy thing when she was anywhere from a hundred yards to a few feet away from him, but if she ignored that and the burning desire to kiss him, they could actually have a decent conversation. And Buffy liked that.
Everyone still slept, ate, and did everything short of make love with their weapons. Rayne hadn’t moved against them yet, but everyone was adamant that he would soon. Buffy was again doubtful, since they hadn’t even had a drug bust since she’d ‘crossed over’ (Xander’s Star Wars talk), but everyone else seemed positive that Rayne was going to attack soon.
So, despite the nervous tension that Buffy felt waiting for Rayne to attack, plus also the, um, sexual tension between her and Spike, for awhile, things were almost quiet.
Really. She should have known it wouldn’t last.
It was almost exactly three weeks after she’d learned the truth about the LAPD. It was late afternoon and Drusilla was, as usual, weirding everyone out. Some of them had only just awakened, since most of their work was done during the night. Dawn was due to come around some time later, probably around ten. Buffy was bored to death.
She found Spike in his room—his closet, to be exact. When she opened the door and saw him crouching there in the dark, she just about peed her pants, she was laughing so hard.
“Spike, what the hell are you doing?”
He looked at her with a look she could only describe as deep disgust. “What the sodding hell does it look like?”
Well, actually, it looked like...a grin grew on her face. “You’re hiding from Drusilla, aren’t you?”
“Buffy, don’t—“
“The Big Bad is hiding!” she crowed, and he buried his face in his hands. “Spike the big, bad street fighter is hiding from his ex!”
“M’ completely insane ex!” he pointed out, but his voice was muffled because his head was in his arms.
“Right,” Buffy teased, but after that she let the subject drop. She’d managed to make with the prying and get some info about Drusilla out of Anya, and what she learned made her feel really sorry for Spike. He’d been deeply in love with her. Having her here, now, couldn’t be easy.
“Listen,” she began, “You may not have noticed since you’ve been all hermit-ey, but it’s a really nice day and since Dawn’s not coming by till later, I thought maybe you might want to go on a walk?” Her voice ended about an octave higher than it usually did, mostly because she was terrified he’d think she was nuts. They’d become friends, but they’d never really done anything couple-ey. Well, except for sleeping together.
He stared at her, his eyebrow cocked curiously. “You coming on to me, Summers?” When her blush just deepened, he grinned and said, “’M surprised, but sure, ‘d love to. Gimme a minute and ‘ll be ready to go.”
“Great.” Buffy stepped aside to let him out of the closet and said, “Oh, by the way, I’ve decided to stop carrying around three pistols. I mean, nothing has happened, and doesn’t three seem kind of excessive to you?”
The look he gave her would have stopped a bull in its tracks. “No.”
Just that one word, but something told her she’d be really sorry if she didn’t obey. “Oh, okay,” she said in a small voice. “Sorry. I was just asking.”
He melted immediately. “’S a’right, jus’ don’t do it again,” he advised. “Look, baby, the lap-dancers are dangerous, an’ it’s you they’re really after.” He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “Can’t lose you, luv.”
“Um. Right.” Her face was even brighter red than it had been a few minutes ago. “See you in a few, then?” she asked, quickly extricating herself from his grasp and practically ran for the door.
She heard him sigh. “Yeah. See you.”
*
Spike watched her go with what he knew was a petulant expression on his face.
Well, dammit, he had every right to put. Bloody bint was testing his patience past its limits. Every single sodding day, it was the same thing. He lusted after her so much he was starting to believe that he’d die if it wasn’t fulfilled.
But he couldn’t seduce her. Not yet. Hell, he was only just starting to become friends with her. Now, granted, he liked what he was gettin’ to know, but still. Seducing her right now just wouldn’t be fair.
Plus, there was the fact that the whole damn LAPD wanted her ass just as much as he did, only for different reasons.
Still, even though he reprimanded himself every day, even though he told himself that it wasn’t time to seduce her just yet, he still wanted to. God, how he wanted to.
His jeans, he decided as he exited the room, were entirely too tight. He ought to look into a new look. Maybe khaki?
He voiced the thought to Buffy as they walked through one of the many Sunnydale cemeteries a few minutes later. Funny thing about Sunnydale—dozens of cemeteries and no parks.
“Khaki?” Her voice expressed true horror. “Spike, why in the world would you want to wear khaki? You’d look like...” she paused for a moment, wrinkling up her nose in a way Spike found incredibly cute. “Xander,” she finished, her tone indicating that this was a very bad thing.
“Hey! I wouldn’t look anythin’ like the whelp!” Spike protested, though he was secretly pleased that she liked his look better than said whelp’s—and not just for his sake. If Anya thought Buffy was moving in on her man, well, if he didn’t kill her first, Anya certainly would.
“If you wore khaki, you guys would look like brothers,” she told him seriously.
“Would not! Hey, luv,” and he began to smirk; this would definitely get to her, “Like the top you’ve got on.” She was wearing a pink tank top that he really would’ve liked to wriggle her out of. “You ought to wear pink a bit more. Makes you look like Harmony’s twin.”
As he’d predicted, her eyes bugged out in pure fury. “What?” she screeched. “I look nothing like that skank!”
“True,” he said thoughtfully. “Your breasts aren’t quite as—bloody hell!” Pain, not severe but certainly noticeable, shot through him when she punched his stomach.
“You shouldn’t insult girls with police training,” Buffy said, smirking.
”So I feel,” he shot back, wincing. “Still don’t see how you can punch that hard. ‘S not normal. You’re not normal.”
“Oh, shut up, you big baby.”
He growled, and Buffy stuck out her tongue at him—an action that made him growl for an entirely different reason. Seeing her pink, wiggly little tongue had made him harden immediately. “Best watch it, Goldilocks, or ‘ll ravish you on a tombstone.”
Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, would you really?”
The image was just a little too pleasing. He found himself wishing he hadn’t thought of it, much less voiced the thought. “Um—prob’ly not.”
“Not even if I was really, really convincing?” Buffy edged toward him and put her hand on his chest, staring up into his eyes in such a seductive manner that pulling back made him feel like an absolute pillock. “Not right now, Summers. Got work to do, remember?”
“OK, the point of the whole walk thing wasn’t so you could work.”
“I work all the time. ‘S my job,” he explained. “We could find runaways anywhere.”
She gave him a look that said she thought he’d lost his mind. “In the cemetery? Are you nuts?”
“Well, yeah,” he replied, grinning, “But that’s not the point. ‘F course we’d find ‘em in the cemetery. No better place to look.” She was still giving him the look that said she was convinced he was crazy. “Well, it is,” he defended himself. “Crypts make great shelters.”
“Oh, of course. Of course a kid would want to sleep where they keep the dead bodies. However did I overlook that?” she asked teasingly.
Spike was a tad bit annoyed. He was willing to joke ‘bout plenty of things, but this wasn’t one of them. To him, his work was dead serious. “Most ‘f ‘em don’t have a choice,” he told her quietly.
She stared up at him for a moment, those wonderful green eyes of hers shocked and contrite. After a moment she said, “I...didn’t think of that. Sorry.”
“’S—“ he began, but before he had a chance to finish with ‘okay’, three very large objects leapt out of the bushes and onto him and Buffy.
“Buffy!” he yelled, trying to stand up and come to her side. The two burly who’d knocked him down had other ideas, which they expressed by dealing Spike a strong punch to the nose. His blood began flowing freely.
Distantly he heard Buffy yell his name, but now all his attention was focused on the man in front of him. “You’re gonna die for that, you sonofabitch,” he growled, and launched himself at the man who’d hit him. Punch, kick, hit, get knocked down, repeat. It was something he’d done a million times, but this time it was just a bit different.
Though he was fighting frantically, his attention wasn’t on his own safety; it was on Buffy’s. Every blow he dealt was powerful, because he had to get to Buffy’s side. Every time he got knocked down it was ten times more bitter because he wasn’t helping her.
“Lemme guess,” he panted, landing a blow on one man’s right eye, “Friends of the LAPD?”
“Part of,” the man replied smugly. “And soon, you’re going down.” He leapt at the man, only to have Spike knock him out with the barrel of his gun.
“Right,” Spike said sarcastically, and delivered a blow to the other man’s temple that was so powerful he was knocked out.
At that moment, several things happened. Spike turned to rush to his girl’s aid, but even as he turned to go, another figure jumped out of the bushes and onto the back of the man she was contending with. Within seconds he was down.
Spike watched Buffy’s eyes widen till they were almost frighteningly huge—which scared him. Buffy wasn’t the sort of bird who was intimidated easily. “Riley?”
Spike swore. Riley. Her ponce of an ex who’d been threatening to rape her, or so she’d told him. Looked like he’d still need to help her.
“Buffy,” Riley said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Look, it’s about Rayne, he’s—“
“Shut it, Riley,” Buffy said, her voice icy. “I don’t wanna here it.”
“But, Buffy—“
“I believe the lady said to shut her mouth,” Spike said, coming over to Buffy’s side and wrapping his arms around her waist reassuringly.
Riley scowled at him. “Who the hell are you?”
Yeah, he really didn’t like this guy. “That’s for me to know, an’ you to shut the hell up about,” he said, glaring at the man in as menacing a way as he could.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to talk to Buffy,” he said, before turning back to her. “Listen, Rayne’s insane. I’ve cut ties with him and I need to—“
Buffy gave an incredulous laugh. “That’s the best you idiots can do? What the hell do you think I am, the weak link of Jenkins’?”
“Buffy! It’s true!”
Spike studied the man. He guessed that maybe, if you were as dumb as a doornail, you might think he was telling the truth. Problem was, the man had that corn-fed look to him. Blokes like that were as transparent as glass. “Sorry, Captain Cardboard, but I find the whole ‘I’ve reformed’ bit hard to swallow. When Rayne’s ready to send the big boys, we’ll be waiting. Till then, sod off.”
“Buffy, please,” Riley pleaded, ignoring Spike, “You have to believe me!”
She darted a glance at him and then Spike. Spike just cocked an eyebrow at her, knowing what she was going to say. There was no way on God’s green and verdant earth that she could believe that wanker.
She didn’t. “You heard him, Riley. Leave.”
“But—“
A gun was suddenly pressed to his temple. “Get the hell out of here now, Finn,” Spike ordered in a low, deadly voice.
Riley gave him a look that could only be described as murderous and ran off.
Buffy turned to him. “I was handling it, you know.”
“Bollocks,” Spike shot back. “He was handling you.”
“Okay, that too,” she admitted. He almost choked when she leaned into him and whispered, “Spike?”
“Uh, yeah?” How in hell was he supposed to think with her this—bugger.
She stood up on her tiptoes, pulled his head down, and kissed him. And it wasn’t a gentle, thank-you kiss, either. It was a full-on, lip-to-tongue, I-want-you-now kiss—and all of Spike responded.
By the time they broke away he was so hard his pants were straining. “Bloody—“ he managed to gasp, before pulling her into his arms and kissing her again, this time even more deeply.
She threw her head back, moaning in a way that drove him insane, when he left her mouth and started nuzzling her neck, planting lazy kisses all over it. He pulled her up a bit with his hands, squeezing her ass in the process, before leaving one hand to support her and using the other to tease her fabric-clad nipples into hardness. He grinned against her neck when she gasped out his name.
His grin disappeared when she ground herself against his erection.
His body turned into a flame—he could have sworn he was turning into ashes, he needed her that much.
It was she who finally restored sanity to the situation. Seconds before they completely lost it right there in the park, she pulled away and gasped, “Spike. Home. Now.”
Spike would have smiled at seeing her go all BC on him, but he was too consumed by need to notice her usual endearing traits. All he could think was that he needed to be inside her right then.
“We can do it here,” he murmured, and tried to return to her neck. “You got protection?”
“Yes, pill, but—Spike—ahhh!—no,” she panted. “We can’t...we have to...it’s daylight,” she whimpered. “What if someone sees?”
That gave him pause. She had a point. Plus, dirty jokes aside, he didn’t particularly want their first time to be in a graveyard. “Right, then. Let’s get home,” he said, putting her on her feet. Before she had a chance to start walking, he grabbed her and kissed the breath out of her. “But once we get there, we’re goin’ back to where we left off,” he whispered huskily. “Got it?”
Buffy nodded, her eyes intent on his. “A world of yes.”
*
They practically ran home. Anticipation, mixed with incredible need and yearning, was smoldering between them. Buffy was quickly learning that when it came to motivation, nothing could top pure, unadulterated lust.
Lust that she’d initiated. She wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. Actually, she knew she probably wasn’t. Her brain was screaming at her to pull out before it was too late, but she didn’t want to pull out.
When she’d been fighting that man, she’d realized something. She could die any day. Rayne wanted to kill her, and the odds were that he might succeed. If she ever wanted to make with the—well, love-making with Spike, then she figured she’d better do it soon.
And hey, there was no time like the present, right?
Though she was incredibly worried about the whole Riley thing. That was big-time weird. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was telling the truth, even though her intuition said he wasn’t. Riley was a lying bastard; she knew that. But what if...?
All thoughts vanished from her head once they reached the front door. As he unlocked it, Spike’s mouth once again descended on hers.
Whether by chance or design, the apartment was completely empty. They stumbled toward the bedroom, lips interlocked, hands trying and failing to neatly remove clothing. By the time they reached the bedroom, both were sans shirt and Spike was working on Buffy’s jeans.
They entered the room and Spike threw her down on the bed, locking the door. “Clothes off,” he growled at Buffy.
She grinned and obeyed, watching him greedily as he bared his body to her. When he finally discarded his jeans, he took a step towards her—and both stopped dead.
This was the first time they’d seen each other naked, and both were astounded.
Only one lamp, a red lava lamp that was always on, illuminated them. Buffy was practically salivating at Spike’s smooth, pale skin, bathed in crimson light. His wonderful face, the face she’d admired oh, so many times. Strong arms and legs that could cage her in, making her feeling threatened and safe at the same time. A wonderful chest, hard and smooth yet oh, so soft. And a rather large-looking cock that was currently jutting out at her.
Knowing that his arousal was for her, that he wanted her and no one else, made a whirlwind of emotions rise in her. Pride that it was she who could incite such passion in this beautiful man. Fear because she had that power. Wonder that something so perfect was about to be hers. And another emotion, more elusive yet more powerful than any of the others, that chased about the corners of her mind, making itself known a little more strongly than those times when he held her in his arms. An emotion that could grant eternal happiness, or crush her completely. And right now, that emotion was washing over her like a tidal wave.
Buffy gulped.
*
Spike saw the gulp, and he could have sworn at that moment that he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Of course, she could have done anything and he’d have sworn he’d never seen anything so beautiful, because the truth was, there was nothing more beautiful than the woman who lay on the bed before him.
Her face was hesitant and uncertain, yet at the same time completely resolute. Her eyes seemed to glitter at him, daring him, begging him, to make love to her.
Her soft curves were made sultry and mysterious by the red lights. Her breasts, small and pert, seemed to beckon to him. He ached to kiss them, touch them, worship them in the manner that they deserved—and he would. But right now, he just wanted to look.
Her cunt was covered by soft brown curls, currently glistening with evidence of her desire. Even as he gazed at her, she began to wiggle uncomfortably. “Am I—is something wrong?”
Her voice broke the spell on him. Feeling overwhelmed with something akin to both possessiveness and desire, something that was both and neither and so much more, he stepped towards the bed. Looking deep into her eyes, he placed his hands on her knees. “Nothing is wrong,” he told her sincerely. “You’re the most beautiful thing ‘ve ever seen.” He leaned down and kissed her, very softly, right above her clit.
“Perfect.” Now he kissed right below her clit.
“Absolutely gorgeous.” He planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her opening. After that, neither of them had the breath to speak.
He kissed her, rubbing his nose in her juices and brushing her clit with his tongue, delighting in her little squeals and moans. She gripped his arms, then his head, frantically, brushing her fingers over his cheekbones. God, could this get any more wonderful?
He got his answer when he inserted his tongue inside her and she screamed in climax. As her juices flowed with new abandon, he got his answer: yes. It could get a hell of a lot more wonderful.
When she began to float back down from her orgasm-induced high, he moved up her body. He had a raging hard-on, which was no surprise, given that he’d been eating her out as she ran her fingers over him. He paused at her breasts to kiss them, to swirl his tongue over her nipples just a little before reaching her face.
She yanked him in for a kiss, not seeming to care—or perhaps liking?—the fact that her arousal was still in his mouth. He poised himself at her entrance and looking into her eyes. “Buffy, my love,” he said, brushing her cheek with a finger, “You’re sure you want this?”
*
Good question. She could only stare up at him, marveling at his words. Buffy, my love. Could she hope that maybe, just maybe, these emotions that held her in their thrall were returned by him? Was it possible that he loved her, too?
“Yes,” she whispered. It was both an answer to his question and an answer to her own. Just looking into his eyes, she could see the love that shone there, the same love that she knew radiated from her.
He slowly began to push into her, and she gasped. How could anything feel so perfect? He was hard and silky at the same time, he stretched her to her very limit, and somehow, he wasn’t just entering her body. Even as she felt her body welcome her in, her soul opened up and accepted this man, her former enemy. It was right, it was perfect.
It was Spike.
*
He didn’t know what had come over him. Just eating her pussy had made him ready to come right then and there.
As he entered her, as he began to move against her, suddenly he knew:
This was bliss.
Buffy, warm and tight around him, was bliss. Buffy, gasping and writhing and convulsing around his cock, was bliss. Pure, utter bliss was holding her in his arms as she came.
It was him, it was her, and it was pure perfection. “God, Buffy,” he gasped, leaning over and kissing her on the nose as they moved together, “So—wonderful. Love you—so much—“
*
The words didn’t even register to her just then. She was too lost in the myriad of emotions that he was creating in her.
But some part of her heard his words and took them into a heart that had been both crushed and repaired by the very man who now moved inside her body. Somewhere in her mind, she heard his confession, and she took it into her soul.
When she reached the final peak, when everything he had been making her feel came to a head and clashed in an explosion of fire and light, all she could do was scream. As she began to float down, as he kissed her fervently, shot his seed inside of her, and collapsed on top of her, she met his eyes and whispered:
“I love you, too.”
She knew it was true. Maybe it always had been, but now that both had said it, there was no going back.
An expression of fierce tenderness came over his face, an expression she knew was mirrored on her own. “Buffy...” Spike trailed off, then rolled onto his side, taking her with him, and kissed her softly on the lips. “My Buffy,” he finished in a fierce whisper, clutching her tightly.
“My Spike,” she replied, pillowing her head against his chest and sighing in contentment.
She saw something out of the corner of her eyes. Suddenly, in the midst of all the strong emotion and confessions, she giggled.
“Somethin’ funny?”
“We just made love on rubber ducky sheets,” she giggled. The giggle turned into an outright laugh when she saw the tender, disgruntled look on his face.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
~*~
A/N: Um...um. Don’t really know what to say about that last bit, except, well, they fell asleep happy, think they’re gonna wake up that way? =) Thanks again for the reviews. I love hearing what people think about my writing, and even though I’m repeating myself and it’s beyond lame, THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! is really all I can say. You guys rock!
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