“But you’ll miss our anniversary!” Buffy pouted, cradling her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stirred the pasta sauce on the stove. Liam’s apologetic excuses did nothing to curb her raw disappointment, but she tried her hardest to sound chipper despite the threatening tears. “I know, I know, but I was just really looking forward to it. I bought a sexy outfit and everything…Nope. It was a special two-year treat. Guess I’ll just have to return it…Well, bring me something pretty and maybe you’ll get lucky on Monday, but I make no promises…Love you, too. Call me tomorrow? Bye.”
She sighed desolately and hung up the phone with a sniff, then jumped a foot in the air when a familiar voice came from directly behind her. “Dad’s staying in San Francisco through the weekend?”
“Jesus, Spike, you scared me!” Buffy gasped, pressing her hand to her chest and feeling her heart racing wildly. Not just from the shock, but from his very presence. And the fact that he probably overheard her earlier, a fact that she was trying her hardest to suppress.
“Sorry, pet.” He smiled, moving to lean on the counter beside her. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He smelled of soap and cigarette smoke, a smell she usually detested but for some reason didn’t mind so much on him. A good stepmother would have called him out on the smoking. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t.
“Yeah, he has to do a dinner party or something.”
“Lame. What’s for supper?”
“Um, spaghetti and garlic bread?”
“Tasty.” He reached over and stuck his pinky in the cooling sauce, then slid it between his lips and let out an appreciative hum. “Good sauce.”
“Right out of a jar. My heating skills are unparalleled.” Buffy forced out the joke as she watched the way his tongue darted out to lick up the last bit of sauce from his finger. Any good done from her marathon masturbation session was gone with that tiny gesture.
“Need any help?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though. It’ll be ready in five minutes or so.”
“Okay.” He stayed standing next to her, picking at the chipping black polish on his fingers.
Buffy watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying hard to read in his face whether or not he’d really been outside her door. Whether or not he’d really been listening.
Whether or not it was really her name she heard moaned from his bathroom.
Dinner was normal, perfectly normal. They talked about the test a bit more, and his other classes, her book club, and a movie they wanted to see. Buffy tried hard to be upbeat, but with the addition of Liam’s extended business trip, her day had officially sucked, and she was having a hard time keeping her mind clear of the thoughts she shouldn’t be having.
“We could go. Tomorrow, if you want,” Spike suggested as they stood side by side washing the dishes.
“Go where?” Buffy asked, jolted out of her self-pitying reverie.
“That movie? And…we could have dinner out. I mean, if you want.”
Surprised and pleased, she resisted the impulse to agree immediately, as she always resisted her impulses with him. “That’s sweet, but it’s a Saturday. You don’t want to hang out with me! Go have fun with your friends.”
Spike turned towards her and said softly, “There’s no one I’d rather hang out with.” Buffy felt her jaw drop, and she froze in the intensity of his gaze as he stared at her hungrily. But whatever fire was there burned out quickly, and he continued with a smirk, “And it’s your anniversary, yeah? Don’t want to be alone.”
It sounded like a really bad idea.
“Sure,” Buffy heard herself saying.
The smirk turned into a bright smile that lit up his face and made him look so, so young. “Okay, cool,” he replied happily. “It’s a date.”
She wanted to protest. It most certainly was not a date.
But she didn’t.
~*~*~*~
Only a total and complete ponce would leave a woman like Buffy alone on their anniversary.
And his father was most definitely a ponce.
He didn’t really have a plan, some grand seduction scheme. Or any ultimate goal, other than just to spend some time with her. But if his dear dad was going to be gone all weekend, then Spike planned to take full advantage of that fact. He’d made reservations at a nice restaurant, and checked the movie times, and washed his car.
She’d looked so sad. She tried to hide it with that fake, sunny smile of hers, but he knew all her little facial expressions. He could read her like a book. And, even if he thought it was ridiculous to get upset over dad, she clearly was.
And Spike wanted to make her feel better.
The whole comment about a sexy outfit had nothing to do with it.
~*~*~*~
It was a shame to let such a hot dress go to waste. And she’d bought it for her anniversary, after all. Why shouldn’t Buffy wear it? There wasn’t anything wrong with wanting to look nice for a night out. She felt totally fine with it.
Although that might have had something to do with the two glasses of wine she’d had while getting ready.
Spike was usually pretty good about hiding any blatant, lustful appraisals of her body. His studying was never lecherous like one would expect from a teenage boy, but it was impossible for him to hide his reaction when she came out in the dress. The dress she’d bought with Liam in mind, knowing his favorite color was red, and how much he liked lace.
Like father like son, it seemed, because Spike was catatonic when she walked into the kitchen, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
It was mean. It was wrong. But Buffy couldn’t help but tease him, just a little bit. She needed a little validation, being alone on her anniversary and all. Just a tiny ego boost. Especially since it was six at night on her four year anniversary, and she’d yet to hear from her husband.
“Is it too much?” She asked, spinning in a circle, the short skirt flaring out a bit around her thighs. “I know we’re just going to the movies, but I thought hey, why not?”
“No,” he choked out, shifting his arms so his coat was hanging in front of him. “It’s nice. You look…nice.”
“You look nice too,” she replied. Which he did. He was wearing the shirt she’d given him for Christmas, dark blue that offset his eyes, and a pair of black jeans. Delicious.
“Shall we?” He asked when he regained control of himself, holding out his arm gallantly.
With a giggle, she took it, and he led her out of the house into the cool, dark night.
It was okay. It was fine. Dinner and a movie with her stepson---nothing wrong or immoral about that.
But when he put his hand on her lower back to help her into his car, Buffy shivered involuntarily, and the small movement made her teeter on her heels. She fell backwards, and Spike reached out to steady her, one arm banding around her waist. Her ass pressed into his crotch, and she gasped audibly when she felt something hard and thick between her cheeks.
They froze, pressed against each other, silent. Spike’s breath was hot on the back of her neck.
He’s your stepson. He’s your stepson. He’s your stepson.
Without any permission from her brain, her body sank back further into his, and he let out a low whimper, arm tightening around her so she couldn’t get free even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t.
She could feel him shaking.
You love Liam. You love Liam. You love Liam.
Buffy turned her head slightly and looked up at him over her shoulder, starting to open her mouth to speak. To explain or protest or beg or confess or she didn’t know and she couldn’t think because Spike was suddenly kissing her.
Sixteensixteensixteensixteensixteensixteensixteen.
His kiss was soft and hesitant, a little off center from the middle of her mouth. The pressure was light, and Buffy could feel his lips trembling as he moved them awkwardly. He let out a ragged sigh of contentment.
As quick as it began, it was over. Spike released her and backed up a few steps, a look of horror blooming on his face as she stumbled without his support and leaned against the car.
There was a split second of indecision, a moment where Buffy could have told him, “It’s okay, Spike, let’s just forget about it!” or “Oh my God, young man, what were you thinking?”
She balanced precariously on the edge of a precipice, moments from falling into the unknown. All she needed was just one nudge, just a light breeze or a gentle push, and she would do it. She wanted it.
Her brain was confused but her body certainly wasn’t. The tiny thong she was wearing beneath the dress was already damp, her thighs were quivering, her lips burned from the light brush against his and her heart swelled as she saw how utterly humiliated he was. Opening and closing his mouth, trying to speak, pale skin blushing.
That turned out to be her breeze, her push. She couldn’t let Spike feel like that, like he was the one who was wrong.
It was her.
Before Buffy could over think it, she walked forward until she was standing directly in front of Spike, with just inches between them. He ducked his head low to keep from looking at her, arms curling in front of his chest as if to shield himself from something.
She reached out and grabbed his wrists, then gently pulled his arms away from his chest until they were hanging at his sides. His skin was burning hot underneath her hands, and soft, softer than she’d expected.
Spike raised his head slowly, blue eyes wide and questioning, but before he could ask anything, Buffy turned and led him back towards the house. He followed along like an obedient puppy. Her heart was pounding as her eyes darted from side to side to check for spying neighbors, and soon they were in the house, door shut and locked behind them, one of her hands still wrapped around his wrist as they stood face to face again.
All her mantras were useless. There was no turning back.
~*~*~*~
Spike didn’t know what to do.
Buffy was looking at him like she was waiting for something, still holding his arm gently, looking fucking delicious in that crimson lace dress that gave him just a hint of her cleavage.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Her body just felt so amazing next to his, and she’d looked up at him so sweetly, and she smelled so damn good. It had been instinctual. And the second it was over he’d started going over all the possible punishments, feeling almost sick to his stomach. Boarding school sounded like the most likely option, his dad had threatened it before, and this would really be the final bloody straw.
He was such a pervert. Such a disgusting, horrible, perverted---
She leaned up and kissed him. Hard. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed her body into his and he gasped and her tongue was in his mouth.
Buffy’s tongue. Was in his mouth.
Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and slid his hand down to the swell of her ass. She hummed like she actually liked it, and his confidence rose, so he slid his tongue out to dance with hers, then she sighed, and he was harder than he’d ever been. He was so nervous he was shaking and wanted her so badly he couldn’t think of what he was supposed to do. He didn’t know what to do.
Buffy pulled her lips away and Spike gasped for air, tightening his arms around her so she couldn’t leave him. “Is this okay?” She whispered.
He couldn’t help but laugh through his panic, and nod a few times. “Yeah,” he said when he regained the power of speech. “It’s…yeah. Right. Okay. It’s okay.”
“You know we can’t---“
“Tell anyone? I know. I…I know, I…won’t, I promise I won’t…I…” He really couldn’t formulate a sentence out loud right now. He was certainly doing fine with his inner monologue, because his mind was racing a mile a minute, but every time he opened his mouth, gibberish seemed to come out. He really didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Buffy certainly seemed to have made some sort of decision because she was smiling at him, so he would just…stay quiet.
“That’s good,” she said, sliding her hands from behind his neck down his chest. Spike inhaled sharply as her fingers brushed against his nipples. “Your heart’s beating so fast…” she mused, almost to herself, her eyes fixated on her own hands.
“I don’t---I don’t know what to do,” Spike couldn’t help but blurt out, and she glanced up at him with a soft smile. “I…I haven’t…”
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, then kissed him gently on the cheek. “You alright with skipping the movie?” He nodded. “I’m going to have a glass of wine, would you like one?” He nodded. “Hold on one second.”
Buffy disentangled herself from his grip and walked away, tossing one glance over her shoulder before she disappeared into the kitchen.
Spike sagged against the wall and said aloud, just to check, “This is a dream, right?”
Nothing changed. He pinched his arm next, and still, he was standing in his front hall, with Buffy taste in his mouth. No, not a dream. But it certainly was one he’d had before.
She wanted him. He’d guessed, he’d hoped, but there was no doubting it now. She wanted him.
With one deep breath, he tried to gather his courage and his confidence. If they were going to do this, and apparently they were, he was going to do it right.
She deserved it.
One more deep breath, and his pulse had slowed down enough and his body had stopped shaking enough that he could stand up straight and walk towards the kitchen. Buffy was standing at the counter pouring a second glass of red wine, and Spike squared his shoulders, walked up behind her, pressing his front to her back, and pinned her to the counter with his arms on either side of her.
She looked up over her shoulder at him in surprise, just like she’d done outside, and he leaned in and kissed her again. But this time Spike was going to make it count.
It wasn’t clumsy like before. He took her lower lip between his and sucked gently, before sliding his tongue across the seam of her mouth and tasting the wine already on her lips. She opened up to him sweetly and he brushed their tongues together once before he pulled away quickly.
“That one mine?”
“Hmm?” Buffy murmured, eyes glazed over and lips still parted.
Spike smirked, proud of himself, and gestured to the wine glass.
She seemed to refocus. “Oh, yeah. It’s a Merlot, but if you want…never mind. Are you hungry?”
“Not for food,” he teased honestly, causing her to smile. He stepped away from her and took a long gulp of the wine, barely keeping himself from making a face at the taste. He took a smaller sip this time as he gave himself a mental pep talk. He could do this. He could take charge.
Buffy picked up her own glass and chugged down half of it before setting it back on the counter. “Okay,” she said firmly. “Okay, then---”
Spike interrupted her and took charge, kissing her again and pressing her hard into the counter, groaning into her mouth as his cock rubbed against her stomach. He put down his glass and cupped her small face in his hands then slid them into her hair, deepening the kiss, electrified by the taste and the feel and the smell and he still couldn’t believe it was real. Buffy was responding, hands pressed to his chest and tongue dueling with his, hips circling, sweet little sighs escaping her lips.
This was the extent of his experience, kissing someone into bliss, and as Spike slid his hands down to graze the side of Buffy’s breasts, he half expected her to push him away. Since that’s what he was used to. But no, she arched into him and his hands were suddenly filled with flesh, soft and warm. He shuddered violently and pulled his hands and mouth away, overloaded with sensation and dangerously close to embarrassing himself after just a simple make-out session.
Spike stared down at Buffy, captivated by the sight of her lips, swollen from his kisses and her hair, mussed from his hands, and her eyes, drunk with passion. He’d done that to her.
But he didn’t know what was next. Was he supposed to take her to his bedroom? Hers? Or should they have more wine first? Or were they even going to the bedroom at all? Maybe he’d totally misinterpreted it and there was just kissing. Which was fine, brilliant even, he liked the kissing but if he didn’t do something about his hard on soon---
Her hand was on him. Oh, God, she was rubbing the front of his jeans and he shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, gripped the edge of the counter. It was too much, the feel of her hand on him through the denim was so hot and electric he had no idea how he’d handle it when there was nothing between them. Her lips were on his jaw. He whimpered her name.
“It’s okay,” he heard her whisper, and then her hand was gone and he wanted it back so badly he could barely breathe. But then he felt her tugging at his belt and pulling on the buttons of his fly, and he opened his eyes to see her starting to kneel in front of him.
Through the lust that fogged his mind he knew this was wrong. She was too good to get on her knees in the kitchen, better than that, better than he deserved. It took every ounce of strength he’d ever possessed but he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back up, back to his lips, cutting off her question with a fierce kiss as he pressed her into the counter again, grinding against her desperately for a moment before moving his lips to her ear, nibbling on her lobe and whispering, “Do you want to go upstairs?”
“Uh huh,” Buffy moaned, and he stepped back, holding out his hand to her.
She took it with a smile, and Spike led her towards the stairs.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad I'm not the only one with a dirty dirty mind. :) Next update should be coming your way on Friday, hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks to dampersandspoons for betaing!
Chapter End Notes:
Oh my God she ended it THERE? EVIL! EVIL!
I know, I know. But let me know what you think anyway.
I know, I know. But let me know what you think anyway.