Author's Note: I am so very sorry this chapter took so long. I was really slaving over this chapter and was totally insecure about it. It took me forever to get it to a point in which I was willing to release it to the public! :) Thank you to all of you that have stuck with me through all the long dry periods!
CHAPTER 9 -- Covered in Rain
The kitchen had long been deserted by the time Spike and Buffy stumbled through the front door, laughing and soaked from the continuous downpour. The ride home had been surrounded in blasting music and yelling at late night pedestrians. The release the two had felt speeding down the highway, away from the confines of Wolfram and Hart, had the them riding out a natural high from the ecstasy of freedom.
Entering the empty kitchen, Buffy plopped down on a stool while Spike raided the fridge.
He spoke with his back to Buffy, “So you have fun tonight, pet?”
Buffy picked up a peach from the bowl in front of her and bit into it, “Definitely. Fun was had by all. Willow and Xander were really nice. How’d you meet them?”
Spike retracted his head from the fridge, turning around to reveal a carton of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia in his hands. He grabbed two spoons from the drawer to his left and propped himself against the counter across from Buffy. “My secret stash,” he replied to her impressed look before answering her original question. “Me, Harris, and Red went to high school together. They kept me out of trouble.” At Buffy’s doubtful look, he digressed, “Oh, I got into trouble. They just got into it with me. See, the idea is to get as many people into your screwball scheme as possible -- that way if you do get caught, there’s more room to pass the blame around.” He smiled reminiscently, “And somehow we always got caught.”
Silence, except for the incessant drum of rain on the windows, fell over the room as Spike and Buffy shared the ice cream. Buffy had the absentminded habit of scooping a spoon full of the treat, putting it in her mouth, flipping the spoon around, and savoring the smooth and creamy sweetness on her tongue as she slowly pulled the utensil out from her lips. When he hadn’t dug in his spoon for a while, Buffy glanced up and caught him looking at her -- eyes slightly glazed and studying her mouth -- hungry for something besides the ice cream. Buffy blushed, suddenly shy, “You sang really well tonight.”
It took him a minute to shake himself out of his daydreams, involving Buffy licking the frozen dessert from places other than her spoon, “Thanks,” he said, “It’s a hobby, I guess.”
“You’re pretty popular around the club.”
Spike shrugged, “It was an old haunt. I’d get in a fight with my father or Angel and I’d need to blow off some steam. I’d go there and sing. The audience is honest with you. If you should stick to your day job, they’ll tell you.”
“That’s why it’s your little getaway?” she asked, repeating Willow’s words.
“Yeah. I can find honesty there. Something I never could find at home.”
The shift in his eyes had Buffy prying gently further, “What do you find at home?”
“Pure evil and bad karma,” he smiled ruefully. He explained further, “If I spend too much time here, I find myself straying away from the values I set for myself early on in my life. I catch myself thinking about nothing but business -- going to bed with lawsuits and paralegals dancing in my head. I forget what’s really important and I let it overwhelm me. I let it get too far a couple years ago -- fell in with the wrong crowd -- wrong woman to be exact. I don’t want to go that far off my true path ever again. But Wolfram and Hart never seemed too convinced that I reformed. My history makes me the black sheep of the family -- the failure. All that hate, all that distrust -- it starts to envelop me. I just have to get away sometimes.”
Buffy turned her spoon in her hands, considering his words before speaking, “I think that makes you the most interesting one in the family. They haven’t lived. They’ve never gone outside their safe little world of law and business. You have. You learned who you are and what you truly want in life. The rest of them are following by example -- doing exactly what their fathers did before them.” Buffy met his eyes, “I think that makes you a better man than any of them.”
Spike swallowed her words, overwhelmed that someone who’s known him so short a time could believe in him more than people that have know him his whole life. In his nervousness, he tried to lighten the mood, “I’m ‘fraid you might be spendin’ too much time with me, pet. That sounds like a speech I would have made. I’m beginning to rub off on you.”
Buffy thought about it for a minute, considering all that being more like the man in front of her entailed, before smiling, “Good.” She got up off her chair, put their spoons in the sink, and joined Spike on the other side of the island, picking at the bowl of grapes in front of him.
Thunder crashed outside. The ceiling lights above them flickered before succumbing to the storm, throwing the couple into darkness.
Spike grimaced, “I hated storms as a tot. Used to have to climb in bed with my mum until it let up.”
Buffy looked up around at the windows in the ceiling above them. The kitchen was off to the side of the house -- sort of like an extension, it’s own little world away from the Giles’ business ventures. “Still a little afraid?”
Spike shook his head, “Not afraid . . . Just wary . . . Of the memories.”
Buffy smiled, “Me too.” Her thoughts wandered to her own mother, “The more time that passes the more I feel her slipping away. I start to forget things -- the smile lines around her mouth, the smell of her shampoo. It’s like she’s slowly fading away. I’m afraid one day I’ll wake up and it’ll be like she never existed at all,” her voice broke off in emotion.
Spike turned to her, looking into her eyes. The uncertainty he found there put a knot in his stomach. She searched his face for answers, he brought up his hand to her cheek. “It’ll never be that way. She made you who you are. It may seem like she’s leaving you now, but the more days that pass the more you’ll recognize herself in you. The sparkle in your eyes, the things that make you laugh, your love of art, your strength -- she gave them all to you.” A single tear trickled down her face, Spike swiped it away with his thumb. He rested his other hand comfortingly on her hip and she shifted her body closer to his. This woman had his mind going in circles -- she made him forget everything, yet remember what’s important in life. She was the most incredible human being, and she had no idea.
He couldn’t help but be drawn to her, he bent his head as they grew closer. Shadows played off the walls. “Buffy . . .” Spike breathed, “I . . .” She interrupted him with a kiss. Spike kissed her back, but with restraint. He broke away, breathless, “Buffy . . . Tell me to stop,” he pleaded. If she didn’t stop this now, it was going to go too far. And God have mercy on his soul, he wanted it to.
She searched his eyes, afraid of what she’d find. Part of her wanted to find something malicious -- false motives and lies -- a reason for her not to want this man. But all she found was wonder and adoration. It excited her and frightened her. But she saw more in his eyes than she’d ever found in any other man’s words. “Don’t stop.” She captured his lips again.
Lightening lit up the sky. Every flash would illuminate the kitchen for a split second and Buffy saw his azure eyes boring into hers. It was intense, more so than if they would have been in the light. The shadows danced across his face, making his cheekbones even more pronounced.
Spike trailed wet kisses down her jaw before latching onto her throat. Buffy hummed in desire. She rested her arms on his biceps, feeling them flexing beneath her touch. She turned her face, lengthening her throat for him. At the next crash of thunder, Buffy looked up at the window in the ceiling. She could see the rain pounding down onto the glass above them. The sparks of light would shine down on the couple, highlighting their embrace.
His hand on her hip slid up under her top, caressing her warm skin. The heat from his fingertips burned her. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, her fingers playing in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, holder him to her.
The more he touched her, the more skin she wanted to expose to him. He was gentle, yet possessing. It was a type of passion she had never felt before. “Off,” she whispered, pulling at his shirt. He crossed his hands and yanked the shirt up over his head. She didn’t fall back into his brace immediately, she stood a step away for a moment, admiring his form. He was lean and cut. She reached out her hands, experimentally running her fingertips over his chest. He hissed when her nails trailed down his stomach, resting on his belt buckle.
He smirked at her obvious appreciation. He tugged at her own shirt, “Off,” he demanded in return. Buffy moved to hastily get rid of her shirt, but Spike stopped her, gently placing her hands above her head. He ran his hands under her shirt, hooking his thumbs on the outside. He sensuously raked his hands possessively up her body, bringing the shirt with him. His palms left a hot trail in his wake, running over the sides of her breasts, causing Buffy to inhale sharply, her entire body sensitive to his touch. When her top was discarded, he intertwined his fingers in hers loosely, holding her away from him, loving her body -- every soft angle and curve. “Beautiful,” he breathed. His words gave her the confidence to unzip her skirt and unclasping her bra, letting it fall loosely to the floor.
He pulled her flush against him, kissing her passionately. His jeans fell to his ankles, his hardness sticking out strait from his body, yearning towards her body, her touch, her intense heat. Taking her hips and pinning her against the counter, he rubbed himself against her thin panties, sliding rhythmically against her clit. Buffy moaned into the kiss at the sensation, his hands cupping her breasts and massaging them, slowly bringing her body to a precipice.
His hands went to the two ties on the sides of her candy pink panties, gently tugged at the restraints, and they fell away. He probed at her opening with his fingertips. Buffy stomach tightened and her wetness increased. He entered her with two fingers, his palm applying pressure on her most sensitive nerve. She thrust her hips eagerly into his hand and he didn’t let up until his fingers were coated in her juice. She whimpered when he pulled his digits out, only to widen her eyes when he brought his hand up to his mouth, licking each finger clean with an impressive extension of his tongue. Buffy moaned, it was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. A man who fully worship the female body, knew exactly what he was doing, and did not shy away from sex. She was pretty sure this man did not know how to shy away from anything. But she knew him now, knew that the confidence he carried so well as a man was rooted in insecurity as a boy. He was emotionally broken, but not fragile. Buffy smiled saucily, wrapping her fingers around his length, swiping her thumb across the tip, gathering the pre-cum on her finger. She kept his eyes as she slowly revealed her pink tongue, sucking her thumb clean.
He gazed at her from behind his lashes, ran himself forcedly against her pussy lips, and nudged the tip of his erection into her wet center.
Her tight walls clenched around the invasion. He was so much bigger than Angel, the stretching made her body ache, but in the most delicious way. When he was all the way inside her, he stopped rocking and the two stood there holding each other, composing themselves, trying to control their breaths.
He brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear, “Are you okay?”
Buffy smiled at his tender concern, placing a hand on his cheek, she nodded, “Yeah.”
He rolled his hips into her, her lips open, hot pants on his skin. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, her eyelids heavy. But every time her eyes closed for even a moment, he placed his hand on her cheek, bringing her face back to his, silently demanding eye contact, even when her first orgasm rolled over her unexpectedly in a blissful wave, bringing her to cling to him. He drove into her harder. Her second was more intense, her breath hitched and her body elegantly arched and stilled.
“Spike,” she whimpered as she came, mouth forming a perfect O.
He buried his head to her neck, inhaling her scent as her muscles spasmed around his cock. “God . . . Buffy . . . Love you so bloody much.”
They stood in the kitchen for minutes after, clutching to each other in the darkness, caressing each other’s faces as they both came down.
TBC
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