Spike slipped into the kitchen in a state of shock.
When he’d come to see Dawn that night he could never have anticipated the conversation they’d have. His head was reeling from it, his heart was aching.
Buffy loved him.
God. Buffy loved him.
Him. Spike couldn’t believe it. He knew his nibblet wouldn’t lie to him, but until he heard it from Buffy’s own oh so luscious lips, he couldn’t let himself hope too much, couldn’t let himself dare to believe it might actually be true.
Buffy. In love. With him.
He couldn’t stop his heart from racing. All his years of wishing, and hoping and so bloody desperately wanting, and she finally loved him back.
Why Dawn had chosen to tell him of Buffy’s feelings that night Spike had no idea, it had certainly come out of the blue. But if there was one thing he knew about his nibblet, it was that she was always thinking of others. She would never have told him Buffy loved him if she hadn’t thought it was true, if she didn’t think he and Buffy would be right together.
The fact that the bit had given a union (and please god there would be a union) her blessing of sorts, meant more to Spike then he could ever express.
From the minute he’d met Dawn, as a gangly and uncoordinated teenager, he’d felt a connection to her, one which ran blood deep.
She was so like him, so stubborn and argumentative, so passionate and impulsive. And she was so uncertain.
Just like him. They both attacked life with gusto, but held a little of themselves back at the same time, as though afraid of something they couldn’t really explain. The world had disappointed them both, in one way or another. It just wasn’t what they knew it could be, so together they created a new one.
Spike had never had a real friend before, and he hadn’t cared. After he’d lost the mum he adored he’d taught himself to feel as though he didn’t need anyone.
Then he'd met Dawn and he'd realised how wrong he was.
She was amazing. So warm and kind, so funny and so open. Through her he learnt what real friendship was. It was acceptance, total and utter acceptance of all you were, and all you could be.
It was love.
It was family.
She brought out the best in him. She made him want to be a better man, the sort of man worthy of her artless, sweet affection.
She gave him so much, and she never asked for a thing in return.
And, of course, she had led him to Buffy.
Buffy.
Thinking of her made Spike feel annoyingly ponce like and unusually weak at the knees.
She was the one. The only one for him.
He’d known it the moment their eyes had met that very first day.
Her eyes. A hazel storm of contradictions.
In her eyes he could see her beauty, her strength, her vitality, her passion. But he could also see her insecurities, her longing for something just beyond her reach. Those eyes had shone with energy, with laughter and life, but there was a darkness in the depths beyond the surface, one which Spike knew well and understood. It was the darkness of knowing you just weren’t quite good enough.
He had held her gaze for much longer then was normal, but she hadn’t looked away. There had been a spark, a blinding one. A spark of recognition, connection. It was completely unlike the connection he’d felt when he’d met Dawn. With Dawn the connection was kin, family. The connection with Buffy was something else entirely... something raw.
Frightening. Thrilling. Everything.
He got all of that from her eyes. They were distracted then, Dawn had said or done something which had made them look away from each other. This hadn’t proved to be a bad thing, because it meant Spike could see the rest of her.
Bloody. Hell.
That was pretty much his only thought. She was so small, so petite and perfect. She looked almost ethereal, like some mythical beauty from ancient times. His eyes roved over her face, drinking in every detail. Her nose was the reverse of his, small and cute. Spike reckoned their faces would fit together just right... and she had the most adorable pouty bottom lip he had ever seen. He had to bite his own to stop himself biting hers. Her hair fell in bouncy looking waves around her shoulders and Spike had had the sudden urge to breathe in the scent of her.
Her simple outfit clung to her curves in the most distracting way, and every inch of exposed sun kissed skin was just begging to be explored...
Spike almost groaned aloud. It was then he'd noticed that Buffy was looking at him the same way he’d been looking at her, with hunger.
She wanted him. She could feel the connection, the magnetic force which was pulling them together. She could feel it. He was sure she could.
So Spike, being Spike, had to do what he usually did and ruin the moment.
He’d been ruining moments with her ever since.
It didn’t help that she had a boyfriend. A stupid great git of a boyfriend with the biggest forehead Spike had ever seen. He’d come over later that same night, determined not to be left out of anything. Spike had immediately hated him. Angel immediately hated him back. The fact that Spike may have cracked one of Angel’s fingers when they’d shaken hands probably hadn’t helped, but hey, not his fault the bloke was weak.
Angel had been all over Buffy, his possessiveness would have been almost funny if it hadn’t been Buffy his arms were draped around.
Spike was seething, he had genuinely never felt so angry. He knew he had no right, knew he had no real reason to want to rip Angel’s hulking great arms off and beat his broody face in with them, but it was all he could think about doing.
Emotion had taken over, completely.
From the moment he had seen her Spike knew Buffy was his, Spike just knew it.
He was hers and she was his. It was a fact.
And yet she was going out with someone else, and the only words they’d exchanged had been biting and sarcastic.
Buffy had seemed annoyed though, irritated even, with Angel’s constant demands for attention. That made Spike feel a little better. A very little.
All night all he’d been able to wonder was if she felt the same about him, if she had fallen so suddenly, so completely, too. But he couldn’t ask her. He’d only known her a few hours, if he asked her and she didn’t feel the connection then he’d seem like a psychopath.
When he left that evening Spike decided he had to keep his consuming new feelings to himself. He decided he couldn’t even tell Dawn. He had never kept a secret from his nibblet in the whole time he had known her, their relationship had been perfectly open and equal, but he couldn’t tell her this. He didn’t want Dawn getting freaked out about it, or worse, telling Buffy. He felt guilty, he knew Dawn had sensed there was something up. No one had ever known him like her, she could read his every look, but she didn’t push so he didn’t say.
Over the next few agonising days Spike decided that unless Buffy gave any sign that she felt the same way he would try to put her out of his mind, forget about her.
It was impossible.
She was under his skin, irremovable. He craved her.
It didn’t help that they were so often thrown together. Now, when he came to see Dawn, she would be there. All annoyingly perfect and bouncy haired and good smelling.
Bitch.
As he got to know her his feelings didn’t fade away, like he’d hoped. If anything they grew impossibly stronger.
They never did anything but bicker and trade insults, but Spike came to live for those moments. Outside of his friendship with Dawn, and his motherly relationship with Joyce, Buffy became all he cared about. And he hated it.
Being so close to her and not having all of her was torture, an exquisite, painful torture. But Spike couldn’t stay away.
Far too often he had to witness touchy feely moments between his golden goddess and the great poof. Though he often thought Buffy looked less than into the moments he didn’t ever dare believe that she was thinking of someone else when she was in his stupid big arms.
Spike decided he needed a distraction, he needed a woman that was actually his to take his mind off the woman that wasn’t.
In hindsight he’d chosen badly.
When they'd met Drusilla had seemed like the perfect distraction, as different from Buffy as you could get, both in looks and personality. But he hadn’t been with her long when he realised that she wasn’t just quirky, or a bit different.
She was insane.
He first began to suspect that not all her dogs were barking when she’d invited him to a tea party. With her dolls. After she started saying the stars were whispering things to her (when they were very much inside) he knew something was off.
He stuck it out though; she was quite sweet, in her own way. And she needed to be taken care of. He didn’t love her, he couldn’t, but he didn’t mind caring for her. She took his thoughts off the aching pain in his chest that seemed to be constantly there when he wasn’t around Buffy, or in the soothing presence of Dawn.
When Buffy had eventually dumped Captain forehead (the happiest day of Spikes life) he didn’t immediately dump Drusilla. He didn’t want her to feel abandoned.
Then, one night on a whim, she suddenly decided she was a vampire, and bit Spike so hard on the neck he’d bled. A bloody lot. They’d had words and she’d run away. Spike had wearily gone off to find her, and find her he did.
In bed with another bloke.
After that Spike decided she could find someone else to take care of her, and he and Drusilla were no more.
He and Buffy didn’t suddenly, dramatically declare their love for each other once they were both single. Spike had secretly been hoping for it, hell, he’d been bloody praying for it, but it seemed it wasn’t meant to be. Spike couldn’t deny it was largely his fault. When Buffy had mocked him about his newly single state he probably shouldn’t have said that at the rate her arse was growing she would likely be single far longer than him.
Spike didn’t have a soddin clue why he couldn’t just be nice to Buffy, why he couldn’t treat her like he treated everyone else he cared about.
He guessed that he was too scared to be nice, too scared to be open with her, to show her his heart and have her trample on it.
She was an uber bitch to him of course, but sometimes, just sometimes, he saw her bite her lip after she’d spoken, as if she regretted saying that his taste in clothing was tragic, or the music he liked was ‘lame’. And, even more rarely, when she said something actually cutting, he was sure her wide eyed look afterwards was one of concern, as though she cared about whether he was hurt.
He often thought about talking to Dawn about it, asking her what she thought. But he could never bring himself to. Dawn was his best friend, his best friend in the world, and she always would be, but Buffy was her sister. He never wanted to put Dawn in an awkward position, or make her feel like he’d been using their friendship to bed her sister. His friendship with Dawn was far too precious to risk, so he didn’t say a word.
Then something so awful happened that declaring his love for Buffy was driven to the back of Spikes mind.
For almost as long as he’d known and loved Dawn, he’d loved Joyce. Once she’d realised he wasn’t trying to corrupt her baby she’d been so instantly kind, so excepting of him. So welcoming and thoughtful. She was family too. She was so like the mother he’d once had and lost.
And then he’d lost her too.
There were no words to describe it, the pain that he felt. Pain that was all the worse for knowing that no matter what he was feeling it was nothing compared to what his girls were going through.
He tried to be there for them as much as he could. He couldn’t do much, couldn’t take the gut wrenching agony of loss away for them, but he tried.
Seeing his little bit so broken damn near broke him too, and seeing the light in Buffy’s eyes dim so low hurt him beyond endurance.
Gradually though, very gradually, they began to piece themselves back together. It eventually got to the point where they could laugh as well as cry, and life began to have some semblance of meaning again.
It was during this time that Spike really got to know Buffy. Dawn had wanted, needed, both him and Buffy around, so they came to spend almost all their time together. The bitching relationship that had always existed between them disappeared over night, and a friendship began to be formed. Spike got to see the Buffy her sister, and her mother, had always known. Buffy behind the facade, the strong, intelligent and funny woman Spike had always known she was.
He hadn’t thought it was possible but he fell even more deeply in love with her.
Once the edges of grief had become less raw their snarky relationship returned, but it was so different to what it had been. There was no bitterness behind the words, no trace of real malice or annoyance. If Spike hadn’t known better he would have said that Buffy was flirting with him. She had quickly learnt how to get round him too, using many of the same techniques as his Dawn, but adding a few new ones which never failed to get him hard. Her pouty lip for one.
He knew they had been getting closer, but that the closeness would lead to her love... that he had never expected.
He was so close to having his wildest dreams made reality, all he had to do was talk to her now.
Spike stood in the kitchen and gathered up every bit of courage he possessed. If Buffy knocked him back now he didn’t know how he would bare it.
He held on tightly to Dawns conviction that Buffy did love him, and went through to the living room.
“Buffy?”
Something was very wrong.
The ‘snuggle blanket’ was still on the couch, the TV was still on, and (most worryingly) there were two slices of pizza left in the box. Not just crusts. Two whole slices.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Buffy! Pet?”
Spike heard a sudden scuffling upstairs, and a muffled but definitely Buffyish voice shouted back at him. “What are you shouting about?!”
Spike felt his courage falter a little, and he lowered his voice, “I wanted to talk to you.”
“What?!”
“I said I bloody well wanted to talk to you! Stupid chit.”
Spike could have sworn he heard Buffy giggle. “Well, I’m just getting dressed, come up in five ok?”
Spike looked at the clock on the mantle, with more than a little confusion. She was getting dressed? What the hell for? It was late, not coco and slippers late, but too late to go anywhere. Unless, of course, someone was coming to meet her... pick her up perhaps... take her on a late date... Spike had the sudden gut wrenching conviction that Dawn had been wrong, and Buffy actually loved some other tosser. No doubt a stupidly tall tosser with bad hair.
He’d come too far to back out now though. So he waited the five minutes Buffy had asked of him (though he didn’t wait very patiently) before warily climbing the stairs to destiny.
Buffy’s bedroom door was firmly closed. Spike walked in and out of Dawn’s room, and the rest of the house, as much as he liked, but he had only entered Buffy’s inner sanctum a couple of times, and even then it had only been to steal Mr Gordo to wind her up.
He knocked. There was silence then, “Spike?”
Spike rolled his eyes, “Who the soddin else would it be pet? Bit late for Santa bloody Claus.”
“Give me one more minute ok?”
Spike grumbled about ‘annoying, demanding, bints’ but did as she’d asked.
He was well rewarded.
When Spike opened the bedroom door he was greeted by the last sight he’d expected to see.
Buffy’s room was in semi darkness, lit only by the light of a dozen pillar candles. Buffy stood in the centre, facing him, in only a flimsy (and was it see through?!) black silk robe. Her hair hung in the soft, loose waves he loved so much, and the warm glow of the flickering flame light danced across her face and exposed skin in a deeply erotic way.
Through his stunned haze Spike literally couldn’t think of a thing to say, other than the obvious, “I thought you said you were getting dressed?”
Buffy blushed at his roving gaze. “I was”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look very dressed to me.”
She tried to smile coyly, “No? Do you prefer this?” The robe she had been trying to casually shrug off fell from her shoulders. Buffy had decided that they’d waited long enough as it was, any longer would have been torture of the really not pleasant kind.
Spike croaked out a “Bloody hell” before he lost the ability to speak entirely. She was completely naked. Completely.
After long minutes of frantic searching and trying on of potential underwear choices Buffy had decided to go with wearing nothing at all. In the end, she’d figured, clothing of any kind would slow them down. And anything that would put off the event she’d spent years dreaming of was definitely of the bad. When she saw the expression on Spike’s face after her revelation she knew she’d made the right decision.
Awe. That’s what was on his face. Slack jawed awe. Buffy had expected to feel embarrassed, exposed, under his scrutiny, but she didn’t. She felt beautiful. Empowered.
She saw how he saw her; it radiated from his eyes and stole her breath away. She saw herself how he saw her. Perfection.
Spike opened and closed his mouth several times before swallowing noisily and trying to speak. He thought his zipper had probably broken from the instant, huge and powerful erection he was now sporting. His voice had a strain to it which made Buffy’s already moist inner thighs get even wetter.
Spikes head had pretty much imploded from pleasure overload.
Buffy was naked.
His Buffy.
Naked.
In front of him.
It was too much to take in, too much to believe. He knew it wasn’t a fantasy though, because this was better than he had ever imagined. And he had imagined it a lot. Stringing a coherent sentence together was almost impossible in the face of his bare golden goddess, but he gave it a go.
“Buffy – you’re – you’re... naked.”
Buffy actually grinned, and for Spike a breathtaking, mind blowing, heart stopping sight was made even better.
She looked down at herself with mock surprise, and a gasp which made Spike groan. “Well. So I am. Gosh, how embarrassing.” She smiled at him again, emboldened by the reverence with which he was drinking in her every feature.
“You know, it would probably be less embarrassing if you weren’t all with the clothes wear-age”.
Spike took a stumbling step towards her and shook his head several times; he couldn’t have heard her right. Despite the tendency Buffy had to slaughter the English language Spike usually understood her pretty well. He couldn’t have this time. There was no way. If she was implying what he thought she was then soon it wouldn’t be just his head exploding.
Buffy’s expression grew serious and she reached out a hand, trailing her fingertips down the side of Spikes face. He hissed at the intensity of the sensation.
“Spike, I heard you and Dawn talking just now.” Spikes eyes widened with shock, but before he could open his mouth to respond Buffy ploughed on. Her voice became a little tentative, a bit uncertain. After hearing his earlier words and seeing his reaction to her body she was pretty sure she knew how he felt, but before she could let the happiness consume her she needed to hear it from him. “I didn’t hear everything, but I heard enough. You love me?”
Spike could only nod and raise a suddenly shaking hand to cover Buffy’s own.
The ferocity of the connection burned them both.
Buffy barely noticed the tears which filled her eyes.
She smiled, this time there was no mischief behind it, only unashamed joy. “Good. Because as Dawn somehow managed to suss out and tell you (I will so be killing her for that by the way) I love you too.”
Spike took another step towards her, his heart threatening to burst from his chest, and his ears ringing with her words. The hand which wasn’t holding hers tentatively and then forcefully held her waist. His grip would have been almost painful if it wasn’t for the fact that they were both so desperate for each other.
Spike took their joined hands, bringing them down to his own waist. Once Buffy was clinging to him as hard as he was clinging to her he lowered his face until her lips were almost brushing his own parted ones.
He could feel her breath on his cheeks.
His head was swimming, he was drowning in the scent of her, the feel of her heated skin beneath his fingers. He brought his lips closer, tantalisingly closer, but still not quite touching. His eyes were a burning blue of desire, a rebounding reflection of what shone from Buffy’s.
Spikes voice broke as he tried to overcome his overwhelming feelings. “God Buffy I love you. I love you so much.”
Buffy let out a soft moan and the last strands of Spikes restraint vanished.
His lips fused to hers with a blinding intensity. It was like nothing he’d ever known before, and he never wanted to know anything else again.
He was drowning in her. The taste of her, the feel of her tongue forcing his lips apart to battle with his own.
It was a kiss the likes of which no one had known before, a kiss which would have brought Shakespeare to his knees.
It wasn’t just a movement of the lips, it was a stirring of the heart and soul, a joining, a fusing. She bit his lip in her frantic attempts to consume him, he bit her back and forced his tongue into her mouth, tasting every bit of her he had within his reach. It was everything they had ever wished for, ever dreamed about, it was indescribably more, but nowhere near enough at the same time.
Spike pulled away, his breathing as heavy as Buffy’s own. He lent his forehead against hers and when he spoke the timbre of his voice, as well as the words he was saying, had Buffy unravelling inside.
“Buffy, pet, I want to make this slow, I want to make this last, take every minute and use it to worship your bloody perfect body, I want to show you how good we can be, show you soddin how much I love you, but I can’t – I can’t – “
“I know Spike, god I know.” Buffy ground her body into his, making him groan with so much want. She separated their bodies just enough so she could get between her wet heat and his straining arousal to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. “It’s been too long, we’ve waited so long. I need you. All of you. Now.”
Spike growled, picking her up and slamming her against the wall in one fluid motion. She let out a pleasured gasp, and clamped her legs around his waist.
She looked at him, looked through his eyes until she pierced him, throwing even the darkest recess of his being into blinding, burning, light. Spike was so overcome by what he saw within her his heart stopped, and then she lowered her aching heat onto him and it exploded back to life.
He knew heaven.
She was tight, so tight. And god, the heat. She burned him, she would burn him to ashes and he would still be crying for more.
Spike basked in the sound of her heated gasps as his girth stretched her, filling her completely, and then just a bit more.
For a moment neither of them could move, the perfection of the feeling was too much, so great. The connection they had always shared had finally come together. Two halves finally joined, a perfect fit. Home.
Buffy looked at Spike with such profound reverence, such love, it floored him. She grasped the back of his head, twisting her fingers in the short curls she found there, and brought his head to hers for a kiss.
It was different to the first, more gentle, tender. But no less passionate. The longer they kissed, the more they had to gasp and pant for breath, the more the desperation to have each other returned.
Spikes hard length throbbed within Buffy’s core and she set her rhythm to it, rising and falling so achingly slowly the pleasure was on the exquisite edge of pain.
Spike could never have imagined it could be like this, that two bodies could create such...magick.
At some unspoken, instinctive signal, Spike knew it was his turn to set the pace.
He was unrestrained, slamming Buffy into the wall time and time again. Curving his hips slightly so he hit the sweet spot he’d quickly discovered deep inside of her. Buffy’s screams of pleasure spurred him on. Faster. Harder.
One of Buffy’s hands was flattened against the wall, the other was twisted in his t-shirt. He suddenly slipped his fingers between them and twisted her clit, and she tore the shirt in half.
Her cries echoed off the walls. The sparks, the consuming sparks, ran through her every nerve.
Spike felt her spasmming, clenching around him, pushing him over the edge too.
Oblivion. Sweet Oblivion.
Unable to stand they collapsed onto the bed, still intimately joined.
When Spike could speak again he traced the shell of Buffy’s ear with his tongue and whispered hoarsely, “You owe me a new t-shirt pet.”
Buffy laughed breathlessly, “You owe me new legs.” She plucked at his ruined t-shirt. “And I think I already said something about my dislike of your clothes wear-age, so you were warned.”
Spike was helpless to do anything but laugh back, and dutifully begin to shed his clothes.
Spike looked down at the woman lying in his arms. Her hair fanned out across his bare chest, he could hear the way her heart beat in tandem with his own, and he held her blissed out, heavy lidded gaze.
Buffy had a lazy smile on her face, and a light blush across her cheeks. She drew idol patterns on Spike’s forearm and twisted her legs around his, until they were inseparably twined.
When she spoke her voice was still a little breathless, “Well. I don’t know how you’re gonna top tonight, next valentine’s day will be lame after this one.”
If at all possible Spikes heart swelled even more. Next valentine’s day. She was thinking about next valentine’s day and assuming that they would still be together then.
For Spike this was it, a forever kind of deal. He knew he would never love anyone else the way he loved Buffy. She was the one. Knowing that she saw them having a future too made him almost painfully happy.
Spike smiled and ran a hand across her cheek, down her neck, across her chest and ended at her thigh, where he teasingly stroked her.
“Oh kitten, if you thought that was good you just wait. We haven’t even started yet.”
Hearing her heart rate increase and the hitch in her breathing had his eyes overflowing with so much emotion.
Buffy saw and it damn near took her breath away. She wasn’t sure what made her say what she did next. It was out of her mouth before she really had the thought formed.
“And you could always propose. That would definitely make next valentine’s day of the better.”
Spikes hand stilled in its exploration. “What?”
Buffy blushed a bright, bloody adorable, red. She looked down and started to pick at the bedsheets. She forced a horribly fake laugh, “Ha ha! Only kidding. We’ve only spent one night together, as if you’re even thinking about proposing... You’re probably thinking about running away now. Far, far away from crazy Buffy and her psychotic forward planning. Ignore me, you’ve fried my brain with too many orgasms, I can’t be held responsible for insane rambling... It’s your fault I’ve gone all crazy Buffy with the commitment demanding! Not that I want commitment. I don’t. I really don’t. If you want this to be casual then just call me miss casual. Not that I’m a ho. You probably think I am now cos I jumped your bones, and the whole no underwear thing and all. Oh my god, I’m such a ho!” Buffy’s voice had taken on a slightly hysterical edge.
Spike’s head stopped whirling around and he silenced Buffy with a searing kiss. When he was done she looked a lot less embarrassed and a lot more dishevelled.
Spike spoke with a voice so raw, so full, he barely recognised it as his own. “Pet, Buffy, you’re the one. The only one for me. I want to be with you forever, and for all the time after that. If I had a ring I’d soddin well propose to you right here right now, then I’d drag you to a church and make you marry me on the spot before you could change your mind.”
Buffy’s eyes were swimming with unexpected tears, and her hands were suddenly entangled in Spikes very sexy ‘just been fucked’ hair. She smiled at him, “Guess I’m not the only psychotic one then”.
Spike laughed, and the vibrations spreading from his chest to hers made Buffy involuntarily moan and strain closer to him. “God I love you Spike. I love you so much.”
Spike let out his own growling moan in response and pressed his face into her neck, twirling his tongue over her heated skin. “Love you too Buffy. Always have, always will.”
Buffy raked her fingernails across his shoulders and ground her pelvis into his. He was going to drive her really insane with that talented tongue. And she was going to love every moment of it.
Spike suddenly plunged his fingers inside her and simultaneously captured a nipple in his mouth. Buffy cried out at the sensation overload and writhed beneath him. Before she completely lost the ability for speech she gasped out, “You’re the one Spike, the only one.”
Hearing her say those words, feeling her heat all around him and watching the way she responded so completely to his touch drove Spike to the brink himself.
She was perfect. She was everything. She was his heart and soul. She was always and forever, and every day in between.
She was the one. His one.
And he was hers.
Even hours later Spike and Buffy were so intimately involved they didn’t hear the front door open and Dawn sneak in. They didn’t see her small, happy-but-still-majorly-grossed-out smile as she heard the very vocal noises coming from upstairs. They didn’t see the cute young man clutching her hand and looking at her with besotted eyes, or the way those eyes widened with embarrassment when he too heard the pleasured noises that seemed to echo round the house.
Spike and Buffy were completely unaware of anything but each other, and the most powerful mingling of emotion and sensation.
They didn’t hear Dawn and her young man sneaking back out of the house, or witness their lingering kiss on the door step.
They didn’t hear the breathless way Dawn said, “Happy valentine’s day”, and they weren’t aware of the fact that she wasn’t only speaking to the man before her.
Author's Chapter Notes:
So sorry for massive delay in updating, I was having trouble with my comp, all fixed now though! This is the last part of this particular little series!
Chapter End Notes:
Sorry if the smut wasn't good, this was my first attempt at writing any!
thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed!
thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed!