Title: Caught Between Two Lovers
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Summary: Second season,around the
time of School Hard. A retelling
of Spike and Buffy's meeting. For the
purposes of this story, Angel has never
existed, and Spike is a little different.
Feedback: Yes, please. All I can get.
Part Nine....
Everlasting.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Heart and soul I come to you
Are we meeting here on cue?
Just in time for a love affair"
~~~~~~~~~~
"What are you thinking about?"
Buffy turned her head and looked up into his
eyes. She'd mostly been concentrating on
watching his hands as he maneuvered the
huge car through heavy Saturday night traf-
fic.
She shrugged and snuggled closer. "That you're a really
good driver," she said.
"Ah, well," he smiled at her, "I've been at it for a while."
"Is it fun?"
There was a wistful tone in her voice that caught
his attention. "Would you like to drive?"
Buffy shook her head. "I don't have a license"
He shrugged. "Neither do I."
"Well...I wouldn't want to damage your car."
"This car's a tank, angelface. It was built to last.
Nothing short of a train hitting it is gonna cause
a lot of damage."
She squirmed in her seat, staring down at her
hands. "That's not..completely..impossible."
He chuckled. "What if I take you someplace
where there's nothing you can run into?"
"Like where?" she asked.
He considered the options. "Down at Main Beach,
there's a big parking lot."
She just looked at him.
"You hit something there?" he asked.
Buffy nodded. "Parking meter."
"Scratch the beach, then," he said. "What about
at the mall? No cars there at THIS time of
night."
"Streetlight," she mumbled.
"All right..the mall's out as well." He paused to
think. "Your school, maybe? There must be.."
"Math building...twice."
He looked perplexed. "Who on earth was teaching
you?"
"A friend of mine, Xander. But, he had to stop be-
cause he was developing an ulcer."
"Xander?" He felt a flash of jealousy. "Your little
boyfriend from the other night?"
"No," She nudged him with her elbow. "I told you..I
don't have a boyfriend."
"You've got one now," he pointed out. "Come
on, angelface...let's take our chances at the
mall."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Like a fool that walked through fire
Just to reach my heart's desire
Baby , would you be waiting there?"
~~~~~~~~~~
After adjusting the seat as far forward as it
would go, he scooted her into the driver's seat.
She placed both hands on the wheel, holding
it in a death grip.
"Baby..relax," he said, rubbing her back. "This
isn't rocket science. You just need a little
practice."
"That's what I thought," she said. "But no
will let me use their car."
"Well, I'M here now." His hand slid around to
the nape of her neck. "Just turn the key."
The engine fired up with a roar.
"Put your foot on the brake..good..now pull
that lever down into 'Drive'...foot off the brake
and step down on the accelerator..."
Buffy turned to look at him like a scared bunny
rabbit.
"You...you have insurance don't you?"
He didn't...but he wasn't about to tell her that.
"Heavily insured, baby. You'll do fine."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Could we afford to wonder
If this could be the one?
Looking for a love that's everlasting
Wonder if the feeling's strong enough
Tell me, are we merely lovers passing
Or an everlasting love?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Buffy...honey, please stop crying."
She shook her head, sobbing into a handker-
chief he had given her. "I...I can't...I ruined your car.
I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."
"Baby...it's just a little dent. It can be fixed. " He
sighed deeply. "Now stop crying...you're getting
your pretty dress all wet."
He pulled the car into the driveway and cut the
engine, then came around and opened her door.
Without a word, he picked her up in his arms
and pushed the car door shut with his foot.
Carrying her to the front porch, he set her down
and opened her handbag to find her keys, then
unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
He relocked the door, and turned to see her staring
at herself in the wall mirror at the foot of the stair-
case.
Her face was streaked with tears, and her eye
make-up had become a melting mess, giving her
the appearance of someone who'd come out on the
wrong end of a fistfight.
She was a sad little sight to be sure, and his heart
turned over inside of him. He felt an odd amalgama-
tion of guilt for pushing her into trying to drive the
car, pity for the obvious misery written all over her
face, and the protectiveness she'd brought out in
him from the moment he'd seen her for the first
time.
He would have cheerfully killed anyone else who
made her cry, without even stopping to find out
why. Knowing that this was his fault, he was deter-
mined to find a way to dry her tears.
"So," he said, watching her dab at her watery
eyes. "Was that REALLY the same streetlight
you hit before?"
She blew her nose and nodded. "Yes."
"Hmm...what do you suppose the odds are of
that?"
Buffy turned around, biting her lower lip, and
shrugged.
"Gotta be pretty high, don't you think?" He
stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned
against the wall. "I guess we'd have to go back and
count how many are there, then we could average
it out," he mused, then winked at her. "Want to
drive?"
It was working. That abused lower lip of hers was
beginning to curve in the smile he loved.
"That's better," he said. Cupping her face in his
hands, he kissed both her cheeks and then
her lips, tasting her tears.
She burrowed closer to him for a moment, then
looked up as he smoothed her hair. "Shouldn't
you call your insurance company?" she asked,
sniffling.
"My...oh, yeah..." he nodded, pressing her cheek
against his chest. "I'll take care of that tomorrow."
There was a brief pause. "You don't have insurance,
do you?" she asked.
"No," he confessed. "But don't worry. I can afford it."
She stirred fretfully in his arms. "No, I should pay
for it. I'm the one who made the dent."
"Buffy..."
"I...can't pay you for all of it at once...but I get an
allowance from my mom every Saturday...and my
dad sends me..."
"Buffy, hush!" he said firmly. "I'm not taking your
money, angelface. I have plenty, and I don't need
yours."
She settled down a little. "...and I was thinking about
getting a job this summer."
"You have a job. Concentrate on that."
Pulling back from him, she lifted her tear stained
face to look in his eyes. "Are you sure you don't
want me to pay for..."
"I'm sure," he cut her off. "Listen...I had a sizeable
inheritance from both my mother and my grandfather.
And you'd be surprised how interest can accumulate
over a hundred and twenty five years."
Her eyes grew round. "A hundred and twenty five
years?" she squeaked. "That's how old you are?"
He laughed. "That's when I became a vampire. I was
twenty-eight when it happened, so I suppose, tech-
nically I'm one hundred and fifty three."
"Wow," she murmured. "My mom just about had
a fit when I went out with a senior last year. What's
she gonna say about this?"
"Where is she?"
"She's in New York, visiting some friends. She owns
an art gallery in the Plaza, and she's looking for some
new pieces while she's there."
"And she left you here all by yourself?"
Buffy shrugged. "Believe me, she didn't want to. But
my dad is...well, he's ...not around much. I was
gonna stay with some friends, but someone in their
family died and..it just wouldn't work out."
She stepped back out of his arms. "I need to use
the bathroom," she said, as quietly as though there
was someone else that might overhear.
While he waited for her to return, he shed his jacket
and dropped it over the back of a chair, then removed
his tie.
He moved around the living room, looking at the
vast collection of photographs. Mostly of Buffy,
they ranged from what looked like a newborn
photo taken in the hospital, to what had to be
a school picture taken recently.
He smiled as he examined the visual display of
her infancy and childhood. "God, she's always
been adorable."
She seemed to have gone through no awkward phases
whatsoever. Even the pictures where she was
missing her front teeth showed clear promise of the
beauty she'd grown up to be.
There was one picture that caught his attention in-
stantly. It looked as though it had been taken
when she wasn't aware of it, for she wasn't looking
into the camera, but off to one side of it.
In the photograph, she was wearing a white sun-
dress, with matching white sandals. She had a light
golden tan and her hair was sun streaked, held
back from her face with a gold clip.
There was a faint smile on her face, as if she
was seeing something amusing out of view of the
camera.
He had picked the framed photo up and was still
examining it when she came back into the room.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked.
"Looking at you," he replied. "How old were you when
this was taken?"
She looked over his shoulder. "That was last summer,
so I was almost sixteen." She watched him stare down
at the picture and she smiled. "Would you..like to keep
that picture?"
"Yes," he said immediately, with no "Oh, I couldn't" or
"Are you sure your mother won't mind?" type of re-
sponses. He slipped it out of the frame, and placed
it on the table.
"Thank you," he said, putting the frame down and
turning to face her.
Buffy stared at him with wide eyes. "Take your shirt off!"
she said loudly. "Take it off!"
He blinked, a little surprised at her boldness, but did
as she asked, and unbuttoned his shirt. After dropping
his cuff links into the front pocket of his trousers, he
felt her hands yanking the shirt down his arms and off.
When he turned to face her, he was even more
surprised to see her nearly running from the room.
"Buffy?" He followed her into the kitchen.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god." She was saying it over
and over again as she flung open a door and ran
down the stairs that, he assumed, led to a basement
of some kind.
By the time he caught up with her, she was standing
in front of a washing machine, spraying something onto
the front of his shirt.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked. Looking over her shoul-
der, he saw the black mascara staining the garment.
"Look what I've done to your shirt," she moaned. "First
your car...now your shirt," she added, opening the lid
of the washing machine.
"Um...sweetheart..." he began.
"You must think I'm a total jinx," she ranted, dropping
a capful of liquid detergent onto the shirt.
"No, honey, but you can't..."
Wrenching up the lid of the washer, she threw his
shirt in and closed it, then began spinning a dial
on the instrument panel. "I'm so sorry," she kept
repeating.
The machine began to fill, then to agitate. "I can fix
this one, though," she said. "I can even iron it for
you when it comes out of the dryer."
"The..the dryer? Well...all right, but I...."
She flung herself into his arms. "You don't hate me for
being such a klutz, do you?"
Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and held her
tightly. "No, angelface," he assured her. "I could never
hate you..no matter what."
"Good," she murmured happily. "That makes me feel
so much better."
He pressed a kiss against the crown of her hair. No
way was he going to tell her that she'd thrown a silk
shirt made for him in France..a shirt that was supposed
to be laundered by hand in cold water and never see
the inside of a dryer..into a machine filled with hot
water that was agitating with a violence reserved for
soiled corduroy.
Nope. He wasn't gonna say a damn word about
it.
~~~~~~~~~~
"On this first night, we are one
Kindred spirits on the run
Taking hold of our destiny
In this world of chances missed
Does forever still exist
This side of the fantasy?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Um..do you want some coffee, or some-
thing? While we're waiting for your shirt?"
He closed the basement door, and followed
her into the kitchen. "I don't think I should,"
he said, "Coffee keeps me awake at night."
"Well, we've got decaffi....very funny," she
smiled, her eyes sparkling.
He sat down at the kitchen table and waited
till she walked close by, then reached out and
grabbed her, pulling her down onto his lap.
"I'd rather have you while I'm waiting for my
shirt," he said, nuzzling the back of her neck.
She tilted her head to one side, totally exposing
the soft flesh of her throat. "Kiss me there," she
asked sweetly.
When she felt the gentle press of his lips on her
pulse, she turned in his lap. "Let me see you...you
know..."
He looked at her, eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you
sure?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "I want to know all of you."
"You won't stake me, will you?"
"Silly," she tsked. "Come on...show me."
When he'd changed, he sat quietly as she examined
his face with her fingertips, feeling the ridges and
looking into his golden eyes. Then, placing her hands
on either side of his face, she lifted the sides of his
upper lip, exposing his fangs.
She sat back, her arms loosely draped around his
neck. "Hmm."
He shook his head and changed back. "Well?"
"It's funny," she said, tilting her head to one side. "The
others all look so ugly. But you don't." She stroked his
cheek with the tip of her finger. "You look wild and
otherworldly...is that a word?"
"I think so," He squeezed her around her waist. "You're
not afraid of me, are you?"
She looked at him and smiled. "Should I be?"
"No. I promise..you'll never have a reason to be
afraid of me."
"Same here," she said, quite matter-of-factly.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Can we afford to wonder
If this could be the one?
I'm looking for a love that's everlasting
Wonder if the feeling's strong enough
Tell me, are we merely lovers passing
Or an everlasting love?"
~~~~~~~~~~
The zipper of her dress slid down easily,
and he traced the line of her vertebrae
with his lips, lingering in the small of her
back, gently touching his tongue to her
skin.
He was still sitting, she was standing in front
of him, facing away.
"Can I take your dress off?" he asked.
She smiled and turned around. "Yes," she
said softly, reaching for his hand and tugging
him to his feet.
When she began to pull him across the room,
he stopped her.
"Where are we going?"
She looked at him, surprised. "Um..upstairs. To
my room."
He shook his head. "Let's stay here."
Right on cue, her eyes widened and her cheeks
turned pink. "In the kitchen?"
He had to laugh. He just couldn't help it. "In the
kitchen," he confirmed. Placing his hands under
her arms, he lifted her onto the counter, and stepped
between her legs. "There's no law that says you
have to make love in a bed every time."
Slipping her dress down, he helped pull her arms
out of it, then let it gather around her waist. She
sat there, wearing a black strapless bra, that made
her skin look like cream.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against
the hollow between her breasts. "That's very pretty,"
he said, "What have you got on down below?"
"Stockings and a garter belt, and my underpants,
which you already knew about," she reported
seriously. "What's so funny?"
He was sincerely trying not to laugh, but her humor
was so unintentional that it caught him off guard
every time.
"Nothing, angel. It's just the way you talk some-
times. So serious and innocent."
"Innocent?" She actually looked disappointed. "Still?"
"A little," he nodded. "And there's nothing wrong with
it, baby. I think it's cute."
"But I'm not supposed to be innocent anymore," she
said. "I have experience now."
"Oh, baby," he said tenderly. "You're just getting started
with your experience. And your innocence is one of the
things I love most about you. I don't want you to lose it,
no matter how much experience you get under your
belt."
She framed his face in her hands and kissed him, then
pulled back and said, "Teach me how to talk..sexy. I
want to learn."
"Later" he promised. "Right now...we're gonna have some
kitchen fun."
Buffy sat and watched him pull open the refrigerator
door and hunt around inside.
"Ah-ha!" he announced, pulling a bowl of fruit out.
He placed the bowl on the counter and peeled off
the plactic wrap. There were strawberries and
raspberries, apple slices and orange wedges in
the bowl.
Buffy looked at it and shrugged. "You know, I'm
really still full from dinner."
With his face buried in the curve of her neck, he
laughed and kissed her and told her how much
he loved her.
Then, he helped her slip her dress all the way
off and unfastened her bra. She lifted her hips and
wriggled out of her underwear, but he instructed her
to leave her stockings and heels on.
He pulled the curtains securely closed, then dimmed
the lights.
When he had the room the way he wanted it, he
reached into the bowl and took out an wedge of
orange.
"What are you...oh!" She gasped when he squeezed
the juice from the orange, letting it trickle over her
breasts. Tossing the peel away, he leaned over and
began licking the juice off her skin.
Buffy leaned back on her hands, thrusting her breasts
forward, allowing him to clean her thoroughly with
his tongue. When he was finished, she picked up
another orange slice and squeezed it on herself, wanting
more of his meticulous clean up.
As his tongue slid wetly over her breasts and circled
her hard nipples, Buffy's head dropped back and she
began to breathe a little faster.
He licked her roughly, then took a fat red strawberry
from the bowl. Holding it by the husk, he rubbed the
other end against each of her nipples, then slid it up
to her lips, inviting her to bite into it.
She did, and the berry exploded between her teeth,
releasing it's sticky juice to stain her lips, a stain he
promptly licked away also.
He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth
and finding hers.
To his absolute delight, Buffy's little fingers began
working at the button of his trousers. When she had
it undone, she carefully lowered his zipper, then
lost her nerve and placed her hands back by her
sides.
He took one of her hands and guided it back to the
opening of his pants. Tearing his mouth away from
hers, he rasped out two words, "Touch me."
Tentatively, she reached in and curved her hand
around his erection.
"Yes, baby," he whispered, sucking on her ear lobe, "Touch
me like that...rub up and down...that's it...harder...yeah."
He pulled her forward on the counter, then let his pants
drop down around his ankles.
"Wrap your legs around my waist," he said, "I want
to feel your stockings against my bare skin." He paused
to admire the sight of her in her garter belt and nylons.
"I'm going to buy you one of those in every color," he
promised.
He slipped one hand between her thighs and stroked her
with his fingers. "So wet," he murmured, kissing her
throat. "I want to be inside you, angel. Buried inside you
where you're all warm and soft."
Buffy whimpered when she felt his mouth on her
breast, sucking at her nipple. He reached into the
bowl with his free hand, and extracted a raspberry.
Squeezing the berry between his thumb and forefinger,
he popped it open and spread juice around the light
pink tip of her right breast, then repeated the process for
the left.
When he had her the way he wanted her, he cupped
his hands beneath her breasts and lifted them slightly,
pushing them together. He applied his tongue to her
sugary tasting curves, suckling hard on the very tips
until he had them nearly the same color as the raspberry
he'd painted her with.
"William," she moaned hoarsely. "Please...I..."
She honestly didn't know how to articulate her desire.
"S'all right, baby," he whispered. "I know what my girl needs.
What she wants."
He urged her to lay down on the counter, then ducked
between her legs and began to lick her there. He had to
keep a firm grip on her hips to keep her still, since she
was doing everything she could to get closer to his teasing
tongue.
Pausing to adjust her a little, his eye fell on something
he hadn't noticed before.
Buffy was laying on her back and staring at the ceiling
when she felt his mouth leave her, and she whined in
protest. Before she could say anything though, she felt
a thick substance being applied to her labia. When she
raised her head, she saw William squeezing the honey bottle
her mother kept by the toaster, letting the honey drip down
and coat her sex.
Looking up, he caught her watching him. "Not that you aren't
already adorably sweet," he grinned like a naughty child with
a serious sweet tooth, "But I just love honey."
Pushing the bottle away,. he ducked back down between
her legs and began to meticulously clean up every sticky
drop.
When neither of them could wait another second, he straight-
ened up and aligned her opening with the head of his erect
shaft.
As she felt him began to enter her, she dug her nails
into his arms. It hurt, but not nearly the way it had the
first time, so she assumed it would get a little better each
time they did it.
But when he started to thrust, she noticed that the pain
ebbed a lot more quickly than it had last night. When it
was completely gone, she began to return his thrusts
as best she could from the position she was in.
Turning her head, she saw the honey bottle. William's
eyes were closed, so she reached for it and coated her
finger with the golden syrup, then touched his lips with
it.
His eyes flew open, and when he saw what she was
doing, he smiled and opened his mouth, allowing her
to slide her finger in so he could suck the honey off of it.
She imitated the motion he was performing for her,
using her finger. He sucked it, and licked it, and bit
down gently on it, continuing to thrust harder and harder
in and out of her tight passsage.
Buffy was close to orgasm, and she tightened her
legs around him, using the strong muscles to hold
him firmly inside of her, then grinding herself against
him until she came.
He let her gyrate against him, giving her the pressure
she needed, and when she was finished and looking
up at him with sleepy, satisfied eyes, he pumped into
her hard and fast, grunting with his efforts, exploding
inside of her with a shout of pure carnal pleasure.
He fell forward, covering her mouth with his and
kissing her deeply, then buried his face between her
breasts and closed his eyes.
Buffy stroked his shoulders and back, caressing and
petting him until he raised up off of her.
He saw her looking at the fruit bowl, and asked her
what she was thinking about.
"I was just wondering...what were you gonna do with
the apples, and....why are you laughing? What did I
say?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"This could be an everlasting love.."
~~~~~~~~~~
TBC...
Feedback is great!
[Reviews - 95]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 3588 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +