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CHAPTER 11 -- Congratulations

Their bodies intertwined when they walked in the door. After their talk, Spike and Buffy had enjoyed the night out together, sharing each other’s meal and splitting a layered chocolate cake for desert.

He nudged her against the doorframe with his hips, his mouth never ceasing it’s assault on hers. He pulled back to study her face, his lips parted and panting. With a slow, deep grind of his hips both their eyes unfocused and drifted closed. Her leg lifted, hitching up her dress, dragging up and down his leg. Through the thin material of her dress, he teased her breasts, lightly outlining them with his fingertips, memorizing every curve -- categorizing every detail in his head to be remembered when she was out of his arms and in his brother’s bed. But now, right now, she was his. When he was done with her she wouldn’t be able to remember her own name, let alone the name of her steady beau.

“Bedroom,” she breathed. Spike nodded enthusiastically, grabbing her behind and lifting her off the floor, her legs wrapping around his waist.

He carried her up the stairs, pausing every few steps to push her against the cream colored wall, attacking her mouth and lifting her dress up even higher. They hushed their moans as they passed by the closed bedroom doors of the upstairs hallway. Reaching Spike’s bedroom, he slammed her against the door, and she giggled, shushing him. She reached behind them, twisting the doorknob. They stumbled across the room and he dropped her on the bed, landing on top of her, his mouth never leaving hers.

“Mmmmm . . . Spike . . .” she tried to push him off her, “The door.” Spike growled at the interruption and pushed off the bed, closing and locking the door before returning to Buffy.

She was sprawled out on his bed, her hair splayed across his sheets. She smiled at him, curling a strand of gold in her fingers and running a hand up and down her stomach.

He crawled up her body with the grace of a panther, lowering himself to playfully lick her neck. The giggle he was rewarded with encouraged him and he tongued her neck, collarbone, and earlobes more enthusiastically. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Balancing himself on his knees, he kept at her neck while he drifted his hands to the hem of her dress. He grounding himself into her, then lifted up off her. Her hips raised in response, searching to reestablish the contact. This gave him the opportunity to lift the dress up and over her hips. Buffy continued a tantalizing wiggle against him as he worked the rest of her dress up and off. His jacket and shirt went next, followed by his pants, leaving Buffy in just her bra and panties.

Spike applied his tongue to one nipple, and when her body arched off the bed, he snuck his hand under her back and unclasped her bra. Spike brought the straps down her arms, but she clutched the front material to her breasts.

“Come on, baby, lemme see,” he nuzzled at her arms.

Buffy smiled, spreading her arms up and over her head. Rubbing his dick over the thin material of her cotton panties, he attacked her breasts.

“Spike,” she whimpered.

He slid up her body, his mouth close to her ear, “Shhhhhh, soon, my love, soon.” He slid her panties down her body, tossing them to the far end of the room. With any luck, she wouldn’t be able to find them later.

“I . . . have a request,” Buffy said between pants.

Spike never took his roaming eyes off her body, “Anything princess,” he answered.

She brought his face to look at hers, a mischievous smiles on her lips, “I wanna be on top.”

A slow smirk spread across his face and he rolled over, exposing every gorgeous naked inch of himself with abandon. She took a moment to appreciate the carve of his abs and hip bones before gamely throwing her leg over his hip.

She looked down at him with innocent eyes, “Ready?”

He smiled at her flirtation, “You know I am.”

With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she sunk down onto him. “God, Buffy,” he ground out, gripping her hips, keeping her steady as he collected himself.

But Buffy wasn’t moving anywhere as the position allowed him so much deeper than their first time in the kitchen and she sat still adjusting to his girth as he stretched places in her she’d never known existed. She experimentally squeezed her inner muscles and smiled at Spike’s groan. She did it again, harder this time, and got the same result. She giggled.

Spike quirked and eyebrow, “What?”

She placed pressure on her hands at his chest and smiled, “You’re basically at my mercy, aren’t you?”

His face grew serious. He reached up, twirling the end strands of her hair. He gazed into her eyes, “I’m always at your mercy,” he said softly. “‘Fraid I always will be.”

Buffy’s face sobered at his confession. The tension of his words overwhelming her, she raised up off him and slammed down hard, erasing both their minds of his words and any thoughts before or thereafter.

She continued to ride him and their moans and cries grew in volume and intensity.

“Come on baby. You’re so close, I can feel it. Come for me, ugh, yeah. Squeeze me baby, ride me hard.”

“Spike,” her head lolled around her neck as she desperately rode him out.

Watching her face, he reached down with his thumb, pressing down on her clit and rubbing in a slow circle. She was so very close and just needed something to throw her over the edge. Spike wound his hand in her hair, bringing her down roughly to his lips. That did it. She broke away and came hard, collapsing on his chest, he hammered into her sopping pussy then stilled as he shot his cum deep into her hot channel.

Spike rolled them over on their sides. He ran his fingers through her sweaty hair, “My goddess,” he whispered to her. Her lips curled into a sated smile. He brushed feather light kisses onto her eyelids, “Come on, beautiful, open those eyes for me.” She blinked them open to his own blue orbs. “God how I love you,” he breathed.

They lay facing each other. Spike ran his fingers over her face, she ran her hands up and down his arms. One of her legs was thrown over his hip. She nestled her head under his chin and he inhaled deeply her fragrance.

They fell asleep curled up into each other’s arms.

_________________________________________


He woke up alone.

That afternoon, Buffy entered the front door from her afternoon of shopping. Removing herself from her light jacket, Marge was there to catch it as it fell off her shoulders. Buffy turned around with a smile, “Hey, Marge.”

Marge’s response was formal, “Ms. Summers,” she greeted back. The older woman’s face held none of the sparkle it had in the kitchen. Her mouth was set and jaw clamped. Buffy was about to ask what was wrong, when she caught Marge’s agitated glare in the direction of the main parlor.

Buffy turned to follow her gaze and was startled at what she saw.

There had to be fifty people in the room, at least. But Buffy didn’t know a single one of them. Why was there a party and she hadn’t heard about it? Granted, she didn’t even try to keep up with the business goings on of the Giles family, but she assumed Marge or someone would have mentioned it, or Buffy would have seen them making such a large meal.

Buffy received a slight shove from Marge. A look at the cook revealed nothing. Buffy took a few hesitant steps into the room. A banner reading, “Congratulations On Your Engagement” was hung over the fireplace. Everyone was in their black-tie party clothes. Not one of them acknowledged Buffy’s existence.

Angel’s face suddenly appeared before her. Buffy became less startled, glad to see a familiar person. Buffy looked around at her surroundings, “Who’s getting married?”

“You hopefully,” Angel replied.

“What?” she asked, her eyes wild. “Angel . . .” but she was interrupted by a tizzy of spoons against clanging glasses, led by Angel, gravitating everyone’s attention to the couple in the doorway.

In front of fifty-six of his father’s friends and business partners, Angel bent down on one knee and offered a velvet box to Buffy. He opened it to reveal a Tiffany Legacy diamond engagement ring. “Will you marry me?”

“Did she say ‘yes’?” someone from the crowd yelled. Everyone laughed.

“She’s be a fool not to,” another answered.

Angel laughed at their comments and slipped the ring on her finger. “Is that a yes then?” Buffy looked around the room cautiously and considered her options. She couldn’t say no in front of all these people. She agreed to move in with Angel and led him to believe she was nobody but his. She had a responsibility to him. She nodded her answer. Angel rose from the floor and hugged his future bride. In the background Buffy heard champagne corks and clinking glasses.

Buffy looked at her fiancée, “Angel, I need to talk to you,” but she was interrupted as Travers approached them.

“There are the two lovebirds.” The way he said it sounded doubtful and demeaning. His head lowered, looking at them like he was scolding two children, “I was wondering how much time we had until it reached this point,” he finished distastefully.

“Daddy . . .” a blonde woman in a revealing red sequined dress slipped her arm through Travers’s. She looked about the same age as Buffy.

Travers smiled at his darling offspring, “Darla, dear, I was just congratulating the happy couple on their engagement.”

Darla whipped her head, her eyes examining Buffy critically, “Hello,” she offered her hand in a way that insinuated that Buffy should kiss it, “You must be Buffy. I’m Darla,” she glanced at Angel, “One of the many he left in his wake on his road to you.”

“A move that shocked us all, you can imagine,” Travers commented. He looked past Buffy and Angel, “Speaking of things that disconcert me, here’s one now, William . . .” he grabbed Spike’s arm as he passed by, bring him into the conversation. “Don’t you want to congratulate your brother?”

Spike jaw twitched, his eyes boring into Buffy’s. “Hope your both very happy together,” he replied unemotionally. Buffy wasn’t sure what she wanted Spike to have said, but her stomach dropped at his reaction, felt as if she was slapped in the face.

Darla slid her arm around Spike’s, “William, can you show a girl a good time?” She asked, glancing at Angel.

Spike considered the couple in front of them quickly, his face unreadable, “Sure thing, luv.” He led her off into the crowd. Buffy could see him hand her a champagne flute.

Buffy was soon pushed out of the way as more people crowded Angel to offer their congratulations. Being rejected from her own engagement party, Buffy wandered into the kitchen, deserted as all the workers were out serving food in the main room. She gasped as a hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked into a food closet.

She whipped around as the door closed behind them. It was Spike. The unemotional show he had put on at the party was gone, replaced by eyes that held dark circles and a desolate face with raw longing. “You can’t marry him.” A tear ran down his face. “Please, sweetheart, don’t.” Spike’s voice trailed to a whisper, “They’ll break you.”

Buffy’s heart broke at his despairing plea. She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes, “No they won’t,” she said determinedly. “They won’t break me because you have me.” Her own voice strained, “I’m strong if your with me.”

“Mine,” he whispered.

“Yours,” she answered.

He kissed her desperately. She wound her hands into his hair, clutching him to her. He fumbled quickly with the buttons of her blouse. Her body responded to his possessiveness as her panties grew wet for him.

He pushed her jeans off her hips without even lowering the zipper. He was all the way inside her with one thrust. He calmed instantly at the feeling of her surrounding him. Her head fell back against the wall, reaching under his shirt, clinging to him, when he began thrusting. They quickly came together with soft cries.

They stood, foreheads resting against each other’s, catching their breaths. Buffy’s mind fumbled, trying to remember where this all had started. Was it the day he got off his bike and walked in the door? Or was it the night with the cooks in the kitchen? Somewhere along the line, the track she was on got off it’s set course. At times it was fine with her, the unexpected turn her life had taken. But as she contemplated Spike’s passion and confessions, she couldn’t see the end result of their coupling. And that scared her. With Angel, she knew exactly who she was with him and how life was going to turn out -- the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids, this she knew for certain. But with Spike, the future was hazy.

She interrupted the thick silence, adjusting her clothes, not looking at Spike, “Better get back out there. Angel will be looking for me.” She began working on the buttons of her shirt.

Spike was silent for a moment, but he stilled her hands’ movements, “Do me a favor, luv?” Buffy looked into his face and nodded in consent. His eyes turned stone, his voice lowered to a deep growl that scared her and gave her chills. He grabbed her left hand roughly, lifting the engagement ring up to her, “Take the rock off when we fuck. Scratches the hell out of my back.” With that he stormed out of the closet, leaving her alone.

TBC





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