Author's Chapter Notes:
Note: This piece was originally written in Spanish and was translated by Darynthe with much love, because it makes sense and we all wanted to see Spike’s first time.
Please review!
Please review!
The Amulet
Buffy stares at Spike, in silence, they have been lying over the narrow cot in the cellar for a while. Spike is slightly downtrodden, with Angel’s amulet in his strong hands. Buffy with her hands over the pillow, listens to the way the house is quieting down, bit by bit.
“He is gone, then,” Spike mutters at last.
“I’ve told you he was,” Buffy whispers and Spike looks at her for a moment.
“Well, he is a specialist in disappearing,” he murmurs and seems to doubt for a moment, “you know, he has to be the mysterious and tortured hero all the time.”
“Yes,” Buffy smiles at the joke, leans a little and supports her forehead against Spike’s softly. The bed is too narrow and they are very close. “You don’t have to be…jealous” she says. Spike stares at her for a second, furtively.
“Swell. To be jealous of Angelus is a constant in my life,” he says.
Buffy raises her hand, dubitatively, lays it softly over his cheek, in a smooth caress, Spike remains very still, not looking at her.
“You know you’re my champion,” says Buffy, in a low voice. Spike tilts his head with that gesture that is so his own, and Buffy knows when something bothers him.
“Yes.”
Buffy slides the hand down his slender side, towards his waist and touches his flesh --so firm-- with her fingers. Spike draws a breath, looks at her, and his eyes are sad. Buffy knows what he is thinking, and for the shadow of fear that crosses his countenance, Buffy could kiss him to death.
“Don’t remember that, Spike” she whispers. Spike lowers his eyes and purses his lips with that gesture that always befuddles and saddens Buffy. She pulls his T-shirt a little, upward; Spike stays very still, and Buffy stops and realizes that she is also…afraid of touching him, and that it is not due to what happened in that bathroom a thousand years ago…but because of how he went and unfastened his pants to please her, with that small child _expression, in that church. She breathes and strokes her fingers through his body, afraid, because she doesn’t want to cause him any more harm, she couldn’t stand to do it, and she is not…sure if he wants her to touch him. She gets closer and scrapes his mouth, his neck, his face with her lips, and Spike stares a moment with those big eyes and still remains frozen, as if he didn’t dare to move.
“Do you want to…do it?” He murmurs, insecure. Buffy inhales deeply and looks at him.
“Yes,” she kisses softly his mouth, his face, his neck. “Do you?” she whispers in his ear.
“Y…yes…yes” he says, he touches his forehead with hers, his nose against her hair. Buffy feels his breath and shivers.
“Take off your clothes,” she says in an almost inaudible tone. Spike gazes at her again with those expressive eyes, stirring nervously, and Buffy has to encourage him, taking off his dark t-shirt again. They get undressed rapidly, almost timidly, without looking at each other. They get into bed, under the sheets, one in front of the other. Buffy extends her fingers towards Spike and caresses his body softly, very slowly, moves them by the curve of his shoulder, his chest, his waist, strokes the palm lazily over his arm, goes north towards his shoulder again, the neck, caresses the hair. She wanted so much to touch him, to feel his body under her hand once more. When Spike smiles a little, shyly, Buffy feels a knot in her throat, because he has such a cute smile and she has seen it so rarely in the recent past.
Spike gets nearer, stirring, looking out for touches, and glances at her. He cherishes her, slowly, softly, almost as if he didn’t dare to touch her, and moves his strong fingers over her face, unhurriedly, on her mouth, marvelling. It’s Buffy who sets her hand softly on his waist and draws him to her, over her, and Spike joins her body and searches her mouth to kiss her and it’s so long since Buffy had felt his kisses… the sensation of his lips, the way he purrs slightly when he pushes into her mouth, his tongue so sweet. She hugs him, stroking his sides, his back, his neck, entangling her fingers in his short blond hair, downwards to his ass, so firm. She had longed so much for his body, like something that was missing and she hadn’t realized lost until she felt it against her again, and she needs it more than warmth, more than air, and Spike is still in her arms, kissing her and Buffy doesn’t want to stop feeling him like this again.
Spike shifts over her, accommodating. Buffy closes her eyes to feel him more, to smell him, feel the tact of skin, his weight over her, his lips in the juncture of her shoulder, running with kisses the road to her mouth. Her body likes it so much, slender, flexible, so delicious to squeeze and so strong, and Buffy needs him so.… She moans with anxiety while she feels him harden against her belly and Spike takes her hand and moves it through his chest leisurely; his hard stomach, lower, gasping with his forehead against hers, with those eyes that turn glazed when he wants her so much. Buffy lowers her eyes towards his erection, delicious, so desirable and she caresses the erect, rigid cock, softly, it’s so wonderful to feel him in her hand again, to feel its hardness, to know that it gets like that for her, so big, the way it pushes a little against her body and he nibbles on her neck, mewling of joy at her contact, gasping under her hands, and Buffy opens her thighs slowly, timidly and draws him by the neck.
“Come inside…come inside, Spike,” she whispers, shaken, breathing agitated, anxious, the heart beating against her chest forcefully, Spike looks at her with those eyes so blue, so deep, who tell so many things, and he leans his face on hers, and Buffy feels that he starts to penetrate her. He lets out air with a whisper so sweet… she moans feeling him entering, inside of her again, and takes his face in her hands to stare at him, so he returns the stare, she feels him inside after so long, welcoming him in her body while Spike pushes against her, between her thighs and penetrates her deeply with a soft thrust, delicious, startling her and making her moan and embrace him fiercely.
“Buffy,” he says, in her skin, inside her, “how I needed you.”
“How I needed you,” Buffy moans, hugging him, gazing at him, Spike starts to move softly, very deep, joined to her body, Buffy kisses his shoulder, the neck, he smells so good, his flesh tastes so delicious, her moan suppressed with an effort each time. She feels him pushing and entering so deep, the way he moves over her, so careful, so sensuous, rubbing his hard body against hers, that way of supporting his face on hers, and kissing her with those soft gasps. The chin, the throat, looking for her mouth, her lips, getting so near her, as if he needed so much to feel each centimetre of her skin, and he whispers to her ear that he loves her, that he loves her so much, and his hoarse voice, so full of desire, shakes Buffy to the bone, and Spike raises to look at her and he stays very still, very deep, has those profound blue eyes and Buffy could lose herself forever in that stare, and he looks as if he still couldn’t believe that he is inside her again, and had to engrave it in his memory to know it was not a dream, and Buffy hugs him, surrounding him, because she wants him to feel welcomed, comforted, loved, and remember that time when Spike told her that he felt safe inside of her and she moans, shaken, while Spike starts moving again, pushing firmly, doing it to her once and again, melting her inside, undoing her.
Buffy didn’t remember that so much pleasure could be felt; that tingling inside, that craving for shouting, crying, never stop feeling his body against her, the way how he bites her neck very softly, how he thrusts inside her, his cock so hard, so firm, rubbing inside deliciously, the way he pants each time he penetrates so deep, how he raises to enter more firmly, how he falls over her, passing her lips, his tongue through her neck with that sexy purring that makes her skin stand on end and makes her hold her breath.
Buffy loses the notion of time while Spike does it over and over, so careful and so expert and so firm at the same time and brings her to orgasm softly, entering very deep each time, weakening her with those soft grunts in her ear that drive her mad. Buffy moans embracing him strongly while the pleasure shakes her to the bone, she pleads anxiously, shaken by the unbearable pleasure while Spike sets his face against her again and goes at it harder, glued to her, ramming steadily between her tense thighs, inside her and Buffy closes her eyes and hugs him fervently, and drowns a scream against his shoulder because it is so long that she can hardly stand it and smothers him with kisses, caresses, out of herself, trembling, whispering such sweet things while she feels that she disolves inside and that her heart is bursting in her chest and she can feel that Spike is going to come too and she fondles him sweetly, bringing him against her, against her body because she needs to feel him inside
“Come on honey…come on darling, like that…yes…,” she whispers encouraging him, stroking his back, neck, drawing him against herself, Spike pushes once and again with those delicious sounds, once again, with a very firm push, making her gasp because of how she feels him, and Spike mutters her name and lets his body go at last, very deep, with a hash groan and he stays like that, very still, with the face against hers, between her arms. Buffy hugs him sweetly, against her body, kisses his temple, his face, grabbing him against her because she doesn’t want him to relieve her of his weight.
“Stay inside of me” she mutters to his ear, Spike closes his eyes, opens them, and Buffy feels then a terrible need to burst into tears, because she can feel now that he has a soul, that Spike has loved her exactly the same when he didn’t have one, that he really loved her when he couldn’t do it, that he had always loved her, like the first time she did it with him in that ruined building; and understanding that he loved her made her stagger inside, undoing her, tearing her heart and her world. And the anguish seizes her inside and suddenly, everything seems so unfair.
Spike looks at her somewhat worried, with that sixth sense that he has to know that something is going on and Buffy manages to smile with her eyes brimmed with tears and he returns the smile, timidly and hugs her again, over her, and Buffy keeps him like that, still inside her body, wandering over his neck, tangling her fingers in his short blonde hair.
“I never wanted you only for bed, Spike,” she whispers. He purses his lips and gazes at her with those huge eyes and breathes so deep, faltering, and hides his face in her neck, and Buffy realizes that he is crying and moves her hands over his back, his neck, softly.
“Everything is all right,” she says, kissing his throat, face, temple, “do not worry. Everything will come around fine.”
Spikes lays very still, snuggling against her, Buffy caresses him delicately, carefully, passing her hand over his skin, calming him. For all they have gone through, all the tumbles they’ve had, all that maddening road… and they are there again, she and him, sated of one another and drowsy in that little cot. Buffy touches him while he sleeps, and remembers having done that so many times, touching his body with tenderness while he was asleep, kissing him gently, bit by bit, muttering, when he couldn’t see her because she was so scared of his realizing that she loved him.
She stays a long time in silence, awake, staring at him, travelling with her eyes the curve of his mouth, his cheekbones, his long dark lashes, his face, so beautiful, relaxed now by sleep, that hair, so strange, that she tousles with her fingertips. And everything seems so far away, so unimportant, irrelevant…the potentials, the Fist, Caleb, all the threats in her life, and she wonders how Spike’s body against hers can make disappear all the uncertainties, all the pain, how can he bring her feel so strong.
And Buffy realizes that she had forgotten to tell him that she loves him. That she bit her lips so many times not to tell him that in the end she forgot to do it now.
She kisses his temple, his face, softly.
She will tell him tomorrow.
The end.