[Reviews - 104]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2273 times

- Text Size +




A/N: “Danger, Danger Will Robinson!” This chapter contains possible offensive content to some people. Be warned, if you do not like ‘aggressive Spike.’ I love Spike, but I don’t feel that an author(ess) can write him without a spot of roughness sometimes. Buffy is still a bit ‘confused’ at this time, so please keep that in mind.

Chapter 22: ‘Guest Room?’


“Going somewhere, Princess?” he asked casually.

Buffy’s first gut reaction was to slam the door in his face and make a run for the border. But before the door could actually shut and lock, William had stuck his dock martin clad foot in the door frame and stopped it.

“Let me in, Buffy,” he ordered harshly with a frown.

“No,” she retorted stubbornly, “this is my house, my home. You’re not supposed to be here!”

He shoved the door opened, violently, propeling her back a good five to six feet into the living room entry.

“I was invited,” he growled, “remember?” He sauntered over to her, even as she backed away from him.

“Get out!” she shouted at him, “get out or I’ll, I’ll,” he stopped dead in his tracks and crossed his arms in front of him.

“You’ll what Buffy? Call Captain ‘Riley’ Cardboard and his band of boy scouts? Call Angel in LA? Just what will you do, Princess?” His fine mouth was twisted in one of his patent smirks.

Buffy plopped down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands in utter defeat.

“Why’d you lie to me Buffy?” he asked softly. “Why didn’t you tell me Angel left town without you. That you were alone here?”

She looked up at him and teared up, “because I wanted, no I needed to be alone, William. Can you possibly understand that?” she asked him again, “can you even comprehend how much I just need to be alone right now?”

William sat down beside her, near enough for their legs to touch, but he didn’t put his hands on her.

“Christ,” he mumbled under his breath, “I need a smoke.”

In a surprise move, even shocking herself, Buffy reached in his duster pocket and pulled out his pack of Marlboroughs and his silver lighter.

“Brother, so do I.” She lit one of his cigarettes, took a deep drag like she did it every day and then handed it to him.

Spike took the offered cigarette from her and took a deep, long drag himself. She was staring, unfocused, on the coffee table in front of them.

He watched her, intently, for a moment or two then said softly, “I guess I thought we’d come to an understanding Buffy. I mean after the other night, at the pond, what we talked about, did together. I assumed that we were past the bullshit and lies now. Guess I assumed wrong, huh?”

‘God, he sounded like an incredible ponce right then,’ especially to himself.

“I don’t know, William,” she sighed, “maybe you did assume wrong. Maybe not. Just don’t know what to think anymore.”

From what he could gather, Buffy and Angel must have had a real row before he left for LA. When Angel had called him from there, Spike’s first impulse was to go over and beat on Buffy’s door until she let him in; called the police or shot him to death. It was Spike who’d cooked up the little plan to come collect his money from Buffy, however, Angel didn’t seem too negative about it, from the start.

Since her husband believed that Buffy hated Spike with a passion, he could only assume that the great ‘pouf Angel’ was playing some kind of mind game with his wife. Why else would he encourage Spike to go to his home, especially with him gone and force Buffy to face her supposed mortal enemy?

“What a prick you are Angel,” he reminded himself, although ‘that’ wasn’t really necessary, pretty much common knowledge, that. ‘No, Spike was allowed at the house by Angel for one reason only, to ‘annoy’ his wife.’

“What’s the money for?” she finally asked. “Last and final payment for following me around?”

William shook his head, “no, luv,” he responded with a smirk, “I told you before. I don’t want any money for that. Getting’ my payment from you; betterin’ money, you know?”

She flinched, involentarily, “go to hell!” she hissed at him, stood up and stormed to the front door. “Get out!” she ordered him as she pointed at the door.

He stood up and walked slowly towards her, “Buffy, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. Dammit girl, you know I always say the wrong thing,” he finished with a whine.

“Get out of my house,” she commanded him again, much louder now; ignoring the fact that the Hopes next door might be able to hear her. Then she remembered, the Hopes were out of town, on a family vactation; as were the Jamesons on the other of their house. “Out, William. Now!”

Spike felt like the walls were crashing in around them. He never did learn when to keep his big mouth shut and he wanted so much to just take back the last few minutes.

“Buffy,” he began, but she cut him off.

“OUT!” She looked as if she could just murder him right now and of course, he found it very arrousing.

“Christ,” he muttered, “she’s sexy even when she’s enraged. I’m so in deep.” He took just a moment to weigh his options and decided to go with an offensive move.

“No,” he stated simply.

“What!” she screeched in disbelief.

“No,” he repeated, “I’m not leaving.”

Buffy stood there in wide-eyed shock for a minute or two then made a mad dash for the back of the house. Probably to escape through the back door, Spike assumed. Buffy was fast, but Spike was faster.

He caught up with her, just before she’d made the kitchen door. Instead of tackling her, like he’d done at the beach that day, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the stairwell that led to the second floor.

“Where’s the bloody bedrooms in this mansion?” he growled, even though he seemed to have a pretty good idea already.

“Screw you,” she spat at him, breathlessly.

William actually chuckled as he took the stairs, two at a time! “Oh, you are going to, precious,” he kissed her mouth at the top of the stairs.

Making sure he saw it, she wiped off his kiss with determination. “Find the bloody bedroom yourself you, you cad you!” she cried.

He stumbled, but caught himself, “bloody? Cad? Thought I was the only Brit here tonight, luv,” he laughed. “Guest room?” he asked simply at the first closed door?

She didn’t answer right away. “No,” she mumbled with a hot blush, “Angel’s and my room.”

With another growl, Spike stormed past the offensive first room and stopped at the next closed door.

“I don’t shag in another man’s sheets, Princess,” he informed her. “Guest room?” he looked at the oak door before them.

She didn’t answer, just kind of nodded, shyly.

“Well, alright then,” he crowed, quite pleased with himself.

In a purely dramatic gesture, he litterally kicked the door of the room open and tossed Buffy unceremoniously on the queen sized bed. He slammed the door behind them and stripped off his duster, which he tossed on a chair by the closet.

Before he started on the rest of his clothes, he noticed that the walk-in closet had a false front, made entirely of one long, tall mirror.

“Well, well, well,” he purred, “look what’s behind door number 2?”

Buffy lay on the bed, blushing like a virgin school girl at the Prom. It was bad enough that Will had re-enacted the stair case scene from Gone With the Wind, but to pick ‘this’ room? The one with the huge mirror that reflected the whole bed in it.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, “I can just imagine how he’ll utilize this!”

Right at this moment, he was peeling off the his jeans to reveal, big surprise, that he was not wearing any kind of underwear.

“Oh,” she squeaked, then closed her mouth, so tightly that she wondered if she’d ever be able to open it again. Will dropped to his knees beside the bed, his face just inches from hers.

“Lose the clothes,” he ordered, rather gently for an order, “or I’ll tear em off of you,” he warned.

She nodded, but couldn’t seem to move one way or the other. “Maybe you better just take them off of me, Will,” she whispered slyly through half closed eye lids.

“Whatever my lady wants,” he responded sweetly as he gently pulled her top up over her head.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he murmered adoringly as he unclasped her bra from the front and slipped it off her shoulders.

She was beyond words at this point, so she just lay back on the bed, her head at the foot instead towards the headboard. When he unzipped her jeans, all the while looking at her eyes, she could only shiver in anticipation.

‘Surprise, Will,’ she smiled smugly when she saw his surprised, but pleased look. Buffy was sans panties too, just like him.

“Mmmmm,” he purred again, “ my yummy little Buffy.” He yanked her jeans off of her and tossed them on his clothes on the chair. By now, he was positioned on his knees, hovering over her like some big jungle cat.

“Damn,” she thought, “but he is striking!”

Spike lay over her hot, tiny form, careful not to put too much of his weight on her. He kissed her warm mouth and stroked her body sensuously. Buffy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tighter to her body all the while writhing up against his own frame.

“God you’re beautiful, Buffy,” he rasped, “can’t keep my hands off of you.” They lay there, kissing deeply, their moans filled the tiny bedroom.

“Turn over, baby,” he commanded gently. She did as he asked, trembling slightly from fear, apparently not quite sure what he had in mind.

“It’s okay,” he whispered tenderly as he nibbled her ear, “I promise I won’t hurt you. You do believe me, don’t you baby?”

He grabbed a pillow from behind him and gently placed it underneath her golden head, “please tell me you believe me, that you trust me,” he pleaded.

“I believe you. And I trust you,” he heard her whisper back to him.

He raised her hips up, ever so slightly and positioned against her sweet little cunny.

“Will!” she gasped, “you don’t have a rubber on! How……” she tensed up beneath him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he shushed her with a silky voice. “Do you think I would ever do anything that was going to endanger you or harm you my sweet?”

When she shook her head, he damn near came right then, but managed to rein in his control.

“I want to feel skin on skin this time, Buffy. Don’t you want to?”

‘Uh huh’ she nodded. “That’s my good baby,” he murmered as he stroked her back and bottom. “We’re gonna’ take this slow, Princess,” he assured her, “I don’t want to hurt you, or scare you. Just wanna make you feel good, okay?” She nodded again.

Buffy felt William push slowly into her, filling her up when he had entered her completely.

“Look up into the mirror, Princess,” he whimpered, “look up and see what you do to me.”

She did and was amazed at the scene reflected back at her. Will looked like he’d died and gone to heaven, his half closed eyes were glazed over in pleasure and his jaw was clenched in a tight control; as if it would keep him from cumming right then.

“We’ve never done it this way, have we, sweetheart?” he panted, nearly groaned in pleasure.

“No,” she moaned back, “not til’ tonight, Will.”

He pulled out slowly and pushed back inside of her, even more slowly.

“You should see your beautiful little arse, Buffy, dear. It’s all flushed and slick with sweat, just invites me to push into you.”

She was losing it; quickly. The first tinges of an orgasm were beginning in her tummy and shooting in both directions, right through her whole body.

“Will!” she gasped, “I’m gonna’ cum, Will. I can’t help it. It feels too good!”

He began to pump harder now, thrusting into her deeply, but still being careful not to hurt her, “cum for me Buffy,” he begged. “Cum for your man.”

Had Buffy been able to speak, even long enough to get a couple of words out, she would have told William that he was not her man. But she didn’t have the strength to even open her mouth, much less the desire.

“Oh, Buffy,” Will groaned beside her, his damp arms were wrapped around her body, possessively. He had cum right after she did, roaring her name in his release.

“Yeah,” she groaned in agreement, unable to say anything more.

“Damn,” he moaned again, “I’m bloody thirsty.” Buffy looked at him, dazed for a moment, then blinked to clear her vision. “Want a beer?” she mumbled. “Oh yeah,” he panted back.

Spike waited for Buffy to come back upstairs with the beer. In the meantime, he wanted a cigarette so bad he almost broke down and lit one up. She appeared with the opened beer, somewhere between here and the kitchen, she’d pulled a slinky little robe on.

“Thanks, luv,” he smiled at her as he took the bottle from her little hand. “You didn’t need to get dressed, luv,” he chided her with a wink. She blushed bright red, an adorable habit of hers that he just loved to see.

He had propped himself up on a pillow by the headboard and Buffy climbed back up next to him. As he drank the beer down, quickly, she sat crossed legged, her knees touching his side. The nearness of her intoxicated him and he couldn’t help but reach out to touch her slim right calf.

"You are so not my man, you know,” she said firmly without looking at him.

“Yeah I am,” he responded with his usual Spike bravado, “you just don’t know it yet Princess.”

She shook her golden head, defiantly, “no,” she stated again, with just a tad less determination this time.

Spike chuckled, “I am, little one,” he insisted and pulled her to him before she could deny it again.

Buffy lay next to him on the bed, a bed, thankfully, that she and Angel had never shared. She couldn’t exactly explain why, not even to herself, but for her and William to have sex in any bed Angel and her had shared would have been just yucky. Not because it was such a slap at Angel, she realized, but because it would have upset Will. It was all very disturbing, this bizarre affair between her and William.

“When does he get home?” Will asked a bit too casually. Buffy shrugged, “oh, Sunday I guess, so he said.”

He reached over and took her chin in his hand, “I want you to come to my place, tomorrow, Buffy.” His eyes were so blue, they reminded her of the sky after the rain; clear, clean and open.

“I……can’t, it’s too risky, (yada yada; same old song and dance that we all know), but she stopped herself with the word ‘I.’ The memory of her argument with Angel replayed in her mind; ‘you weren’t their first choice in a wife for me, babe’ he’d said. ‘Wrong side of the tracks, who made real good’ he had actually said that!

“Okay, Will,” she relented this time.

“Really?” he asked, kind of stunned, but happy.

“Yeah, really,” she giggled. “Just give me your address, point the way and I’ll be there. Sane or not, I’ll come over.”

He looked so happy, so very happy in a kind of stunned, ‘can’t believe’ any of this way. Buffy had some selfish motives for going to William’s place, too. She wanted to see how he lived for some reason. How he decorated his apartment, kept house and even what kind of art he hung on his walls. For some innane reason, it was important to Buffy to see how his bed looked, what sheets and such he had on them, even if he smoked in his own apartment.

“Buffy,” she sighed to herself, “you are truly one screwed up girl.”

Will just lay there smiling like a Chesire Cat at her. “Thanks Buffy,” he murmered while he stroked her arms with his hands. “It means a lot to me.”

She nodded and smiled weakly, “You have to go soon, Will. I can’t have anyone see you leave here too very late, it would get back to Angel and oh man.”

He sighed, “I know,” he agreed reluctantly, “I’m just glad you’ll be with me tomorrow night.”

A/N: Sigh, I hope this chapter didn’t offend ‘anyone’ at all. I was up a creek with this one alright. On one hand, we have Buffy who’s just starting to ‘wake up’ and smell the coffee again with her self confidence, especially where Angel is concerned. Then, we have Spike, who would never let her get away with blowing him off the way she did, especially not after the ‘pond’ incident. So, maybe you can understand my dilema? Hope so. (oh and forgive the GWTW nod from Tabula Rasa!) Oh, and one more thing, please don’t be afraid to review, good or bad.
Thanks for reading, luv, Spuf





You must login (register) to review.