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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hmm, have to say, slightly disappointed on the lack of attention on this one. Oh well. It's almost done. And thank you to those wonderful people who have liked this and commented. I greatly appreciate your effort.
Buffy honest to God growled.

It did funny things in Spike’s belly and he buried his face in her hair to stop himself from seeking more than he was welcome to. Feeling each strand against his skin did more than he could have ever imagined, however, and Spike felt lost in the lust of her smell. Whatever else was going on, she was using the same shampoo.

A subtle move and he had slipped his focus. She was sitting up now and he found his lips brushing the outside of a breast while the noise of arguing Scoobies almost melted entirely into the background. And the reunion began singing a whole different tune. Forceful fingers threaded through his hair and Spike found himself almost breaking as he sought to press eager kisses against her top—wishing and wishing that he was the same Spike who could tear her clothes off and bury his face against her soft fragrant skin.

She was rolling against him. Her body was rubbing and relaxing, moans tumbling passed slackened lips as Buffy pressed herself closer. And then she stopped, just as his lips had begun tracing a path to flesh, and he almost cried knowing it was wrong. That he was pushing too far, too fast.

“Spike, I know why they are here.” Her voice was tired, resigned and it savaged him. He was bloody sick of how much they interfered in her life. Here was he trying to do the right thing and let her be happy, and he should have known it would be impossible with them positioned around her, pointing out every single thing that was wrong on her path to get there.

“Does it matter, pet?” He couldn’t believe he was holding his breath. The past minutes had been everything he ever wanted and he could hold onto them for however long his eternity had left if that’s what was on the cards. Still, she said she loved him, but how deep was that conviction in the face of her friend’s disapproval?

“Only in that we haven’t made love yet, and I was kinda looking forward to that part.” She looked sheepish, but with eyes so bright with hope that he almost swallowed his tongue.

He preened, rolled his shoulders into it and let his lips fall into that familiar leer as he practiced looking through her clothes. Her rosy nipples were burned into his memory—the soul having no ability to wipe that part of his devious past from his mind.

“So, we’re startin’ back as more than friends then, yeah?” He was all Big Bad, with a shade of William revealing his uncertainty.

Buffy looked confused at first, and then her lips formed a silent ‘oh.’

“Yes.” Her hand ghosted the side of his face, her expression soft and full of the love she’d never betrayed until the last. “We can never be friends. No more hate, only love till it kills us both. And none of them will ever come between us again.”

There was so much sincerity that he almost cried, but instead he consumed her lips in the kiss that held nothing back. A touch of his tongue butterfly soft against hers to show her that he loved to taste her. A light brush of his hand settling at her hip to show he loved her near him.

It was everything he’d dreamed Heaven to be once she’d described the sensations to him. Warm, finished, loved. Having her beside him, claiming to finally feel something deeply for him brought Spike all that and more, only he had consciousness to go with it, and that seemed the little added perfection that made it all complete.

But he couldn’t help that little part of his conscience that berated his trust in this.

“Are you sure, Buffy? Is this really what you want?” He expected her to pull away, to really consider what she was doing with her friends only a level below them. But the smile that curved her lips as she wound her arms around him completely disarmed his chivalrous intentions.

“After so long, I would have thought my clothes would be way over there by now.” Buffy waved carelessly over her shoulder and Spike zeroed in on parts of her that he would love to unveil again. He hadn’t seen all her flesh since before the soul, and he found that unlike when he first came back, he wasn’t so shy about what he wanted this time around.

“I’m not the same Spike I was, love.”

And he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help tease her a little. Still, it hurt him all the way deep in his pants when she pulled back and let that sexy little pout settle on her kiss-swollen lips. She wiggled back even further and he felt like crying out and clinging to her before she left him completely.

And then his eyes goggled as her top hit the carpet, a very flattering bra following the same path. And there they were, two round beautiful creamy mounds that he had so many past images to haunt him with.

She was all innocence. “Spike, my nipples are all dry.” And she looked at him with so much hopeful intensity that he was a git for even thinking no.

“Maybe I can help?” He bent his head and tucked a puckered nipple behind his tongue, letting his teeth catch and rasp over the peak as he sucked in the scent of pure arousal. God, he’d missed her so much. Missed the arch of her back as she fed his mouth with more of her flesh. Missed the security of her hands in his hair as she held him and not a stake. Missed the little gasps of desire as he suckled her beauty far inside himself. His fingers plucked the other nipple as his mouth feasted, and it was all his sensitised memory remembered, but better. Because this time, she was in his arms to share—not to experience and forget her other pain. This time it addressed a pain that he himself had caused, and Spike put even more into it because of that.

Still, his internal beast raged when she jerked backwards, eyes glazed and smoky.

“Skin. Want to feel you.” And his tee was whipped over his head to join the other discarded clothing. It was pure artistry on carpet.

“Oh Buffy.” He felt like praying as she pushed him back and lay atop him, her gorgeous breasts pressed erotically into his chest. One hand wound fingers through his roughened curls and he could feel the soft pink nails scratch lightly over his scalp as her lips found his again and sucked out his soul from his eagerly opened mouth.

Buffy lay completely over him, her body melting into his as one leg rested against his hip and the other rubbed slowly against his pained cock. He couldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe the miracle that had been his return from a dusty damnation. And then her hand found the buckle of his belt and he was half stripped before he could register the sensations.

He didn’t miss the warmth of her palm curled around his aching cock, though. The slow, sexy roll of her fingers from base to tip was more than he’d experienced in so long that it wasn’t something he could ignore. It was the soft way she held him that told him for certain that this time was different. That and the tears that accompanied each little kiss she bestowed on his body from his lips, over his throat and down to his straining length.

He had always guessed that she loved sucking him. Never knew if it was something she’d tried with all her past miseries, but the way she lovingly lathed and kissed him while cupping his balls and rubbing her thumb over him was enough to make him stop caring. It was the sweetest torture to feel that wet tongue slide up his throbbing vein, her teeth nibbling gently around the bell of his head and her tongue lapping up each new little burst of fluid that seeped from inside his column.

She stopped before he blew.

He wanted to kill her. Make it hurt for teasing him so mercilessly then depriving him of feeling her throat muscles contract as she swallowed him down.

It took a moment to focus, and when he did it was to find her smiling in such a brilliant sappiness. “You know you were my first, don’t you?” His confusion made her frown, but the smile returned almost immediately as she leaned down to swipe her tongue once again over his slit. “This. There’s only ever been you. Could never do this for anyone else. No other boy is as pretty as you here.”

“Oi,” he felt necessary to object, but felt the distinct surge of pride that she liked his bits. “Truly?” He couldn’t help prodding with an excited boyish smile, just to make sure she wasn’t kidding him.

Buffy moved back again and nodded the truth at him. “I’ll never lie to you, Spike. Never.” And her jeans never looked better as they gathered at her ankles, revealing a scrap of fabric that he just knew would look better off her enticing flesh. As he opened his mouth to suggest it, it was done, and his mouth snapped shut with the obsolete idea.

She didn’t look any less stunning than she had the last time he’d seen her, so very long ago in the raw. He held out a hand and nearly choked when she took it, their grip easy but definite as they held on to each other. There was no force of pull as she held his hand all the way back to the bed. Still she held him as she crawled forward and straddled his thighs.

“This is the first time we’ve done this in mutual love. I won’t ever close my eyes, Spike. I want you to see every second of pain I felt while you were gone from me, and every second of happiness I feel to have you back.” She lifted her hips, directed his hand to the side of her face as she rubbed her wet need against the swollen head of his cock. Buffy’s other hand stroked against a nipple as she slowly sank down on him, feeling his girth stretch her to a width she had always found wonderful. Perfect.

She itched all the way down, her body expanding and her skin tingling to have him back so deep inside her again. It was so much more than she’d ever dreamed possible, and yet here he was. Buffy waited long minutes, staring deep into awed blue eyes as precious as Ceylon sapphires. He saw it, she was sure, and it was enough to make her give in to the need of her body to move. She kissed the palm she still held against her cheek, and allowed her pussy to suck him in the rest of the way.

The love that blossomed on his face was reflected on hers, each image, each word of poetry adding that flavour of belonging that Buffy had been sure was lost to her forever.

“I love you.”

She said it because she felt like it, and because the expression of awed acceptance on his face made her feel high. Finally she let go of his hand so she could better brace herself against his chest, moaning as two hands cupped her breasts and she worked her way up his length, only to slide back down with excruciating slowness. It squeezed tears from her eyes. Delirious happiness inextricably linked to the misery of loss.

“I love you,” she repeated, feeling the urgency now that he understand it; understand her and every angle she loved him from. It wasn’t new, was an emotion she should have shared long before her first botched attempt. “I need you so much. Don’t leave.” And she was crying again, her bottom lip wobbling as remembered pain ate a hole in her chest.

Being crushed against his chest was exactly what Buffy needed. The cold familiar feel of his muscles as she curled around him, still slipping him in and out of her needy lips as she struggled to resign her mind to really having him back. And having him in this new, wholly acceptable way was something she would hold onto with both hands. No way would her friends rip her away from this. No way would they deprive her of having all of Spike, all the time. She was done, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“You have me, Buffy. Whatever you need. Whatever you deserve, I’m here. I love you, kitten. I’m yours forever.”

And Buffy felt the first stitches in the repair of her heart.





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