On most days, Spike was able to push the creeping depressive thoughts to the far recesses of his mind and focus on living each day one after the other. While each night was chock full of vampires and demons, Spike filled his days with classes at UC Sunnydale where he was majoring in Psychology; which was what he chose after being forced to finally claim a major. Figuring it to be a “cake” course, Spike had wandered into his first class with his trademark smirk and carefree attitude. However, after meeting the instructor, Professor Walsh, Spike realized that not only was the class going to be a whole hell of a lot harder than he had anticipated, but that he was actually going to enjoy it. His enjoyment in the class grew exponentially when he met the professors teaching assistant, Tara Maclay. Spike was instantly attracted to the shy girl with honey colored locks and slight stutter. After a rather embarrassing attempt to gain her attentions, Spike learned that she was uninterested, since her sexual attractions were more focused on people without penises. Despite her lack of attraction to Spike, they grew close and spent a great deal of time together out side of class; much to the dismay of his girlfriend of over a year, Drusilla.
After being introduced to the fair skinned, raven haired beauty at the Bronze one night by Angel, Spike had become instantly enamored with mysterious girl. For several months after their initial meeting, their relationship deepened from friends to a more intimate coupling. Spike loved that she was normal, a living breathing human that he could spend not only his nights with, but more importantly, his days. Although her parents were not overly fond of their relationship, finding Spike unworthy of her affection since his family was not “well-off”, they tolerated his existence; figuring that their only daughter’s attraction to him was his rebel like exterior and that their relationship was just a teenage fling.
While his feelings for Drusilla were indeed strong, sometimes Spike felt as though he might be in love, he was often bombarded by lustful thoughts of a certain blonde he had not seen in ages. Sometimes, after a night of patrolling, he would lie in his bed and allow his thoughts to wander back in time. Images of her tight body writhing against him at the Bronze, the way her perky breasts brushed against his chest, her lips pressed against his, filling his mind and causing his cock to throb painfully against his lower stomach. It was only when Spike imagined Buffy’s fangs slicing through the tender skin of his neck or inner thigh that he could no longer contain his need; taking his hardened shaft in his hand, pumping wildly until he came hard, thick strands of cum spilling over his curled hand, his screams of passion barely concealed by the pillow.
She plagued his dreams, beckoning to him with a seductive smile and breathy voice; begging for Spike to come find her and spend an eternity with her in the dark. Night after night he tossed and turned in his small single bed, moans and sighs often passing over his lips as he repeated his search for Buffy. Most nights his search was futile, aimlessly wandering through darkened streets; but there were rare occasions when Spike would find Buffy. It was those dreams that frightened him the most, waking up with his heart pounding, cock throbbing and a desire to crawl out of bed and actually go look for her. What scared Spike the most was that in his dreams, he never made an attempt to stake Buffy; not once in almost eighteen months did he try to dust her in his dreams. Instead, when Spike found her, albeit dark alleyway or candlelit hotel room, he would embrace her passionately and they would spend the remainder of the evening having sex. Just before Spike would wake up, their bodies would be entertwined; his softening cock still buried inside her pussy, Buffy would sink her fangs into his neck, sending Spike spiraling into a mind blowing orgasm. In his dream, Spike would feel his heart slowing as Buffy pulled his life’s blood into her mouth; feel his life slipping away. Then, as if floating above the joined bodies, Spike would watch as Buffy nicked her arm with one sharp fang and place it above his mouth, feeding him her blood in order to turn him. While that very act scared Spike, the fact that deep down the idea of spending an eternity with Buffy called to him was what frightened the hell out him. It was those mornings that were the hardest; having to force himself out of bed and into the world where he had to be sociable and studious. They were the hardest because those were the dreams that made him want to stay in bed even though he was afraid
Clear across the country, Buffy slowly awoke from a pleasant, yet disturbing dream about a certain blonde Slayer and stared at the ceiling trying to decipher its meaning. Giving up on ever figuring out her feelings for Spike, she decided to get out of bed. Stretching her limbs, she eased out of the silky soft bed, mindful of still sleeping figure beside her. With light steps, Buffy tiptoed across their bedroom and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower; the heady aroma of her lovers arousal still thick in the air around her body. Turning the water on full throttle, Buffy stepped into the black tiled shower and closed her eyes as she allowed the near scalding hot water cascade down her body. Leaning forward, she placed her hands against the cool tile and angled her head under the spray at the same time she heard the sliding doors ease open; signaling the arrival of her lover.
Buffy arched her back into the awaiting figure; the scorching heat from her lover’s body never ceased to amaze her.
“Mm…” Buffy moaned as warm hands ghosted over her sides as they made their way towards her bare breasts; stopping to cup the rounded globes and tease her turgid peaks. “Didn’t mean to wake you, but glad that I did.” Loud sighs echoed against the ceramic walls as one hand lower, gliding down her body until it came to rest at the juncture between her trembling thighs. Turning around in her lover’s embrace, Buffy stared deeply into the lust filled whiskey colored eyes; pausing for a brief moment to wish that the eyes staring back at her were artic blue instead. Mentally shaking off the sudden pang in her un-beating heart, Buffy leaned against her lover, wrapping her arms around the warm, supple body and caressing the silken skin; playful nibbles tracing up a pulsating blue vein until her lips settled in the delicate hollow below the ear. Feeling one skillful finger slide into her pussy, Buffy growled in pleasure just before sinking her fangs into the tender skin that covered the jugular. After several mouthfuls of rich blood, Buffy felt her orgasm threatening to shatter through her body. Lifting her head, she once again stared into her lover’s eyes and whispered, “Why don’t we move this to somewhere a little more comfortable?”
“Don’t have to twist my arm, B.”
TBC...