Spike awoke curled around a pillow, a delicious warmth spreading throughout his body instantly as the memories of the night before were vivid in his mind. There was no second of sleepy unawareness, no moment where he forgot. It would be totally impossible to forget. For the rest of his life he’d walk around with the feel of her lips on his, her hands on him…yeah, he was hard. God bless his youth.
He stretched like a cat, a soft purr escaping his chest as he rolled on his back and glanced at his clock. Late, afternoon, much later than Buffy liked to sleep in even on weekends, which explained her absence from his bed.
Maybe he could get her to make a late brunch. She made delicious waffles, with berries and cream, and they could regain their energy and then maybe take a swim, bend her over the diving board…
He made his plans as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then headed for the stairs. But halfway down, he heard something that made his stomach drop to his knees, made his smile shrivel up and die, made his erection fully deflate.
His dad’s laugh echoed in the living room, and the sound of the TV became quieter.
“Bleu cheese or ranch?” Buffy called from the kitchen.
“Ranch,” Dad yelled back.
He wanted to back up the stairs as quietly as possible and lock himself in his room. But at the same time, he wanted to head downstairs and make his presence known, show Buffy he wasn’t going anywhere and prove he wouldn’t lose to Liam. Who wasn’t even supposed to fucking be here. He was supposed to have the whole bloody day and he had to come home and ruin it, like he ruined everything.
Slowly, Spike continued down the stairs, turning his head as his dad became visible on the couch, watching Sunday football. American football, not the good kind. Through the kitchen doors he could see Buffy, dressed in tight yoga pants and a matching tank-top, hair down and flowing around her shoulders, standing at the kitchen counter.
“Good afternoon, Spike,” His dad said with a smile. “Nice of you to join us before the sun went down.”
“Thought you were staying in SF,” Spike snapped, glancing over to see Buffy now standing in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel, looking at the ground.
“Got Wesley to fly up and take the meeting. Thought I was needed at home.”
“Would you like a salad, Spike?” Buffy asked. “I’m mixing it up right now, I could use some help.” She raised her head but still wasn’t quite looking at him, but rather, looking over his shoulder somewhere near the stairs.
“Uh, sure,” he said, glancing back and forth between the two of them, finding no signs of distress or unease. At least not directed at him, anyway. Buffy wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning, and his dad had that pout on his face like he did whenever he fucked up. They seemed kind of mad at each other, but not mad at him. Which made him a little less nervous, though his heart was still pounding like a motherfucker.
Spike headed into the kitchen, shivering as he brushed past Buffy, and felt him follow behind him, tracked by Liam’s extremely annoying voice. “So we on for dinner tomorrow, honey? Make last night up to you?”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug, her voice sort of sharp and unpleasant, before spinning around and walking back to the counter. She didn’t look at Spike as she started to chop up some carrots, and the TV volume in the living room grew louder again.
He felt kind of sick as he stood uselessly behind Buffy. Once again he was plagued with questions as to what the hell the next step was supposed to be. Were they pretending like it didn’t happen? Because there was no bloody way in hell he was playing along with that. No, they were definitely going to talk about this. Soon.
But still, he couldn’t open his mouth to get her attention, couldn’t voice any of the numerous thoughts in his head. Even the simple ones, like, “Hey, what can I do to help?” were impossible to force from his lips. So he just watched. Watched and waited for her to turn around and finally look at him.
~*~*~*~
Buffy knew he was watching her intently, could feel him standing just a few feet away. Could smell him, smell the sex on him, was panicking inside that Liam would know. At the same time, there was a part of her that was hoping he would figure it out.
She was just a mess of thoughts and feelings.
When she’d woken up early and slipped out from under Spike’s heavy arm, she thought she’d take the morning to think. Ponder. Puzzle. Figure out what the hell she was supposed to do.
Asleep, he looked like a sweet, young angel: soft pale skin and heavy lashes, lips curling in a smile even in repose. She’d stood there for a moment, naked in her stepson’s room, trying hard to muster up the correct amount of regret, the right blending of disgust and hatred for herself and him and for what they’d done.
But no, it wasn’t there, just like she knew it wouldn’t be. And that was almost worse. If she didn’t feel the expected feelings, then how was she supposed to do the expected thing? Which was to end this, right now. Full stop, as Spike would say.
Oh, he was sweet. Sweet kisses and sweet tasting and his sweet voice babbling, “Love you, love you,” over and over in her head—even though he’d just said it the once—it was all she could hear, and it made her nauseous and happy and so turned on.
His hand suddenly fell on her shoulder. His touch made her knees weak.
Buffy spun around to see him looking down at her miserably, face twisted up like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for her to tell him it was over.
She should really tell him it was over. She should open her mouth and say the words, then take her husband his salad and let him apologize for not actually telling her happy anniversary yesterday which, really, she didn’t give a shit about, but that was the reason he’d come up with for her absolute horror when he’d walked into the house an hour ago, pulled her into an intense kiss, and apologized profusely for being “a shitty husband”.
His words. Not hers.
It was easy to pretend she was mad at him for the thing she should be mad about, and a perfect cover for the fact that she was, in fact, completely preoccupied with thoughts that would get her divorced, thrown in jail, and sent straight to Hell.
She loved Liam. She did, she did, she did, she did. And she wasn’t just saying that, reciting her mantra to keep herself in check. No, she did love him, care for him. Missed anniversary aside, he was good and kind and treated her well and loved her back. And she didn’t want to lose him.
So what the hell was wrong with her that she wished he’d stayed away longer? What kind of wife was she? What kind of person?
The kind who desperately wanted to kiss her stepson, apparently.
She really, really should stop this.
But instead she reached up and laid her palm to Spike’s cheek, soaking in the warmth of his skin, melting his sad face into one of hope, not being able to take another second of his pain when she knew that she, and she alone, had the power to fix it.
The TV turned off in the living room.
Buffy backed away quickly and turned back to the salad, quickly parsing it out into bowls as Liam walked into the room, humming underneath his breath.
He walked over and pressed a kiss to her temple, a kiss that days ago would have brought a smile to her face. So she forced one to the surface and handed him his lunch.
“Do we want to eat out on the patio?” She asked brightly, turning her head towards Spike and finding her smile becoming genuine as she saw the jealousy flickering there. Oh, that was wrong. Enjoying the way he was jealous.
“Sure.” Liam nodded. “Let me carry those for you, sweetheart.” He reached out and picked up the tray of water glasses, then headed out to the patio, still humming away.
Spike looked like he was about to say something, something she wasn’t ready to hear or respond to. Something she really just couldn’t handle right now.
She winked at him, and headed outside. The sound of his steps instantly followed.
~*~*~*~
Spike thought maybe they should talk about it.
He’d really wanted some sort of verbal confirmation, a spoken aloud agreement to…what, date? Definitely not. Fuck? It had to mean more than that, it had to. He would have laughed at how stupid he could be, if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied.
Full of Buffy.
She’d sent Dad to the market with a long, long list. She’d watched him drive away, and headed up the stairs without a word.
He just assumed he was supposed to follow. With the touching and the winking and the smiling at him during lunch, he was supposed to follow. Right?
She’d led him to his room, stripped off her clothes, and covered his mouth with hers until he was so hard he was surprised he didn’t tear right through the front of his sweatpants. She kissed him with a such intensity, like she was trying to tell him something through the kiss.
He was guessing it was something good.
And now he was kneeling on the floor, her legs over his shoulders, trying to convey his own thoughts through the way he licked mercilessly at her clit, fingers busy pumping into her cunt and ass.
“God, Spike…yes, yes just like that, fuck…” And then a high moaning noise.
She came again, was that three times now? Muscles clenching around his fingers and juices dripping down his chin. God, he was good. Feeling a little puffed up with pride, yeah, he was good.
And he wanted, needed, had to fuck her, so he crawled up her body, worshipping the soft sweaty skin with gentle kisses, then waited for permission.
Because they hadn’t talked about it. He didn’t know what was allowed and what wasn’t and what was happening and he sort of didn’t care. She could want him as her bloody concubine if it made her happy. He’d lick her dry five times a day and be happy with just that.
He loved her.
~*~*~*~
Buffy looked into his blue eyes, bright with excitement and hope, like he was opening the best birthday present in the world, and shivered.
She felt…God. When Spike looked at her like that, she felt absolutely treasured, worshipped, important. Loved, more than she’d ever been loved before.
She didn’t want to lose that. Not if she could help it.
With her heels hooked around his waist, she pulled him towards her and he reached down and fumbled only for a second before sliding inside her in one smooth thrust.
“Oh, God…” he gasped out, voice hoarse and tense with pleasure, shuddering as he squeezed her hip. “You feel…you feel so bloody good, Buffy, I—”
She kissed him, sucked on his lip, Sucked on his lip, then released it as her fingers danced over his jaw only to whisper, “We can take our time later. Right now, just fuck me.”
~*~*~*~
Later. Later. There was going to be a later and Spike couldn’t contain the slightly strange sound that came out of him as he pulled his dick nearly out of her; a half laugh, half sob full of gratitude. Then he slammed back in, grinding at her clit for a moment before moving back again.
Buffy squeaked, reached down and squeezed his ass hard, then slid her hands up his torso to scratch at his nipples.
Spike felt a heat searing from his chest and groaned, then he just…fucked her. Hard and fast, just the way he wanted but she liked it, too, soaked his cock she liked it so much and there was nothing, nothing sweeter than this feeling. And he got to do it again. Later.
“Your sweet cunt…better than…everything,” he murmured, feeling almost reverent, like he was praying at the altar of Buffy Summers-O’Connor—no, drop the O’ Connor—as his orgasm built and built. “Love this, pet. Love—love—”
Oh, fuck, he didn’t want to say it. He couldn’t keep from saying it. He was pretty sure he had the night before but it was sort of a haze of flesh and tongue and sweat so he couldn’t quite remember, but now he knew he’d almost said it and really didn’t want to ruin anything. Didn’t want to step a toe out of line.
But Buffy didn’t seem mad, or freaked. She reached up and touched his lips lightly, sliding her finger along his lips, and nodded. “I know.”
She knew. She knew and she lifted her head up and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he was so damn…happy.
~*~*~*~
Spike wrapped her in his arms and pulled her off the bed, drilling his cock into her hard as he began to come, eyes wide open and staring at her. Openly, nakedly, devoid of any sort of artifice or domination or even pride. Just absolute pleasure and joy.
Buffy clutched him with her nails and sighed in pleasure as he filled her to bursting. He finally shuddered for the last time and collapsed off to the side, soft dick sliding out of her. He nuzzled his head into her hair as he wrapped one arm around her tightly and dipped the other between her legs, seeking and finding her clit instantly.
He rubbed, first lightly, then harder when she arched toward his touch, testing what worked best on her, then sat up on one elbow and took his hand away from her pussy. Her moan of disappointment was short as he grabbed her left hand and pulled it down between her own legs, kissing her forehead softly.
Laying his fingers on top of hers, Spike rubbed gently again and then she understood and took over. Buffy’s eyes fluttered shut as she touched herself, showing him exactly what she would do when she was alone, teaching him just what she liked.
He sighed. “I’ve been listening to you do this. Dreaming about it. Wondering what it looked like…”
Her eyes flew open again in surprise, hand stilling. “You—you listened? Before…I mean, before Friday?”
“Mmm.” Spike nodded, leaning down to kiss her breasts, tongue swirling around a nipple before pulling away to say, “I’ve wanted you forever, Buffy. Since the first bloody moment I saw you.”
She started rubbing herself again, staring into those hungry, bright blue eyes, the confirmation of it heightening her arousal. “Tell me…tell me what you thought about.”
A slight blush, and then he murmured, voice low with lust and a bit of shame, a combination she found just adorable. “Thought about what it would be like to kiss you, first. Dreamed about those lips for weeks, and then the time I heard you…couldn’t bloody stop…”
She rubbed circles around her clit, first hard, then soft and teasing, then hard again. Spike slid two fingers inside of her, which she hardly ever did while masturbating and the added stimulation made her moan.
He continued. “Listened at the door and it felt so wrong but I hoped—I hoped you were thinking about me, too. Were you, kitten? Were you thinking about me?”
“Yes…” She sighed, rubbing faster now, hips rising to meet his thrusting fingers. “I was, I…coming, I’m gonna come…”
Buffy did, rubbing fast and hard at her clit, listening to Spike purr in her ear, “Knew it, knew you wanted me…well I’m yours now, yours. And I’m gonna do whatever you say…” The shudders and trembles in her body were absorbed by his as he lay next to her, holding her close and chanting, “Love you, love you, love you.”
Just like she’d imagined.
~*~*~*~
The sound of the car out front broke into the hazy afterglow, and Spike pulled away quickly.
“Just hop in the shower,” Buffy said calmly. “I’ll do the same.”
She sat up and kissed him quickly, then grabbed her clothes and disappeared out of his room. Heart pounding, cock half-hard again, he ran for his own shower, and quickly jumped under the freezing cold stream, refusing to touch himself.
He was saving it all for her.
~*~*~*~
Liam entered the bathroom as she lathered up her body with her favorite coconut soap. The scent of it filled the steamy room, and through the door Buffy saw her husband lean against the counter and watch her.
“I put away all the groceries, but left out the steaks for tonight.”
“Thanks,” she said as she reached for her shampoo, turning her back but tossing a small grin over her shoulder.
“I missed you this week,” Liam said softly. “I’ll try not to have such long trips from now on, okay? I know you don’t like being left alone.”
Buffy froze for a split second, then said quickly, “It’s okay, I know it’s necessary for your job. Really, I’m just overreacting anyway. And I missed you, too.” She turned and blew him a kiss through the door, glad when it seemed to cheer him up. “You could probably get in a swim before dinner. Bet you didn’t go to the gym once when you were in San Francisco, did you?”
“Caught me,” he said, laughing. “You take such good care of me and my cholesterol. Love you for it.”
“You love me for lots of things,” she quipped, then waved him out of the room before collapsing against the wall and taking a deep breath.
She was really doing this. And somehow, she didn’t care.
~*~*~*~
“Um, Buffy?” Spike asked as she cleared the dinner plates, trying his hardest to sound casual. Normal. “Do you think you could help me study some more for my test tomorrow?”
His father frowned. “Why did you leave it until the last minute, Spike? I’m sure Buffy—”
“Wouldn’t mind at all,” she interrupted. “It’s kind of fun going over all the plays I used to study. After I finish the dishes, Spike?”
“Sure,” he nodded, suppressing the bubbling joy that definitely didn’t come from the idea of studying. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”
~*~*~*~
Liam frowned at the lack of sound coming from Spike’s bedroom, but he wasn’t quite sure why it bothered him.
A sudden strange feeling had come over him as he read the newspaper in the den, a sort of nauseous pain in his gut that made it impossible to finish the article on a local high school football team. He hadn’t understood why, but he’d given in to his desire to go upstairs and check on the studying progress.
But now he was outside the door, and he didn’t hear anything. No music, no voices, no rustling of papers.
It was silly to be suspicious, but being suspicious was a part of his nature, and Liam found it was always best to trust his instincts. Sometimes they were right, sometimes they were wrong, but when he listened to his gut he always knew he’d never have regret.
He knocked once on the door, then opened it quickly to see Spike sprawled on the bed, leaning on one elbow, while Buffy sat in the desk chair next to him, reading aloud. Her voice was soft, so soft he hadn’t been able to hear it from the outside.
Neither noticed his appearance, or seemed to have heard him knock. Buffy, because she was focused intently on her reading. Spike, because he was focused intently on Buffy.
“…Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air…”
Buffy recited in a low voice, the words flowing off of her tongue as easily as if they were modern English.
Liam found himself just as entranced as his son, in awe of the ease with which she spoke. He’d never heard her read Shakespeare before, though he knew she’d focused on it in college. It had just never come up.
Her voice shifted now, higher and breathier, and both Spike and Liam leaned in closer.
“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet...”
She stopped and took a sip of her water.
“Would they really want that?” Spike asked after a moment of silence. “I mean, I know they die and everything so it’s not really the point, but would they really want one of them to have to give up their family and everything?”
“There’s a lot of crazy things people will do for love.” Buffy said with a shrug, turning the page. “And later she says she would ‘follow thee my lord throughout the world.’ She’d do anything for him, and vice versa. In their immaturity, they think love means ultimate sacrifice.”
“Like death?”
“Pretty much.” She glanced over and saw Liam in the doorway. Her eyes seemed to widen, but she smiled at him, and Spike glanced over and gave him a cursory nod, eyes narrowing with distaste per usual.
“How’s it going?” Liam asked, stepping one foot into the room.
“Fine,” Spike replied shortly. “Got to study a lot, though. So I don’t, you know. Fail. ”
“He’ll be great,” said Buffy. “Really. We do have a lot of work to do though, Liam, why don’t you watch a movie or something? Oh, or I recorded a few episodes of that Discovery Channel show you like. It’s on the TiVo in the den.”
“Alright.” He nodded slowly, fixing his eyes on Spike’s face as he spoke. “I’ll be right downstairs. If you need me.”
“We won’t,” the boy said dismissively.
With one last smile, his wife turned away from him. “Do you want to stick with the balcony scene, or move on?”
“Read more of Juliet’s lines. I liked that.”
“Sure. Think about the prose style, okay?”
Liam backed out of the room and shut the door, pausing for one moment outside of the door, hand resting on the wood. He could hear her this time, her voice loud and clear as she recited the lines.
He walked down the hall, feeling somewhat relieved, but still with that tightness in his chest.
But really, there was nothing to worry about.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, with a fic like this (where I'm trying something new) feedback is all the more important! Sad that it's over, but on to new shiny things! There should be a new fic up from me soonish. Thanks to dampersandspoons for being a beta, a babe, and totally bamchickabowwoooow.
Chapter End Notes:
Yes, it's over now. It was always intended to be a short fic,. Hope you enjoyed!