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Ch. 21: Under His Thumb

Thunder woke her again, but it wasn't coming from the storm outside. She couldn't quite figure it out, as her eyes were unwilling to open just yet, but there was some kind of rumbling in the distance of her foggy mind. She heard it again, louder, and stretched out lazily in bed in capitulation to its loud pleas. And then she realized it was coming from her own stomach.

Giggling, she buried herself in pillows and tried to go back to sleep, but now the rumbling was not only pricking her ears but pushing at her belly as well. When her body finally began to stir, she was greeted by the soothing smell of coffee and toast. It was this last sensation that finally pushed her eyes open, if slowly.

Spike grinned at the woman lazing before him, her tousled blond curls falling over her face and partially obstructing the view of his morning treat—grinned at the way she suddenly snorted and shook herself awake, as if not believing the vision before her.

Buffy was pretty sure she was awake, but Spike, in his worn jeans and mussed hair carrying a tray of breakfast, was looking pretty dreamlike to her—and if things went the way her dreams usually went, she'd need all the sustenance she could get. Her face flushed at the thought.

Spike came towards the bed, head tilted in curiosity. "And what is making you blush so prettily?" he teased as he set the food before her.

Buffy sat up lazily, modestly tucking the sheet underneath her arms. "Maybe I'll show you after breakfast," she replied. Laughing at his blush, she then asked, "And what is making you blush so prettily?" she echoed with a grin as she dug into the scrambled eggs and took a large bite of jellied toast. She smiled again with her mouth full, and Spike couldn't help but smile back.

When the food was polished—pretty quickly—and set aside, and when the two were sitting in bed together, still not really addressing that fact of sitting in bed together, Buffy decided once again to take a deep breath and plunge right into things.

She leaned forward a little, wanting to look at him straight on. Spike, sensing she had something to say, braced himself for the end, for what was inevitably going to break this lovely morning camaraderie.

"So, this is the one and only time I'm ever going to bring this up, okay?"

Spike nodded, his whole body tense with dread. He shifted a little, trying to make it seem like he was nonchalant about the whole thing.

"When I found out about the whole mom thing, I sort of freaked out. Understandably I think," she started, her hands nervously twisting the bed sheets in a way that belied the calmness of her voice. "I didn't know what to think, and I was unwilling to hear your side of the story because, well, what could you possibly say that would make the story go away?" She shrugged. "It made the most sense at the time, and I had somewhere to run to, so I ran."

Spike didn't dare move. He wanted to hear all her thoughts at once, and he was afraid that any movement would jar her thought processes and destroy the moment—and right now he was starting to have hope, something he hadn't considered a realistic possibility before.

Buffy sighed. "And then when my mom got sick—" She stopped, looking up at him. "Yeah, I didn't tell you about that," she said in a quiet voice. "She got really sick, and I had to fly back. And then she passed away."

"Oh, Buffy. I'm so sorry," Spike responded, wanting to say more but still unsure about how he should react to news involving her mother.

Buffy nodded in thanks, clearly not wanting to linger on that memory. "It was better, I guess—she was suffering a lot. But she tried to explain things to me, helped me understand things a little better. I guess that's what moms are for. I love her so much, and it was just weird to think about—well, you know." Sighing, as if trying to move on in her story, Buffy continued. "Eventually I came back here, and I couldn't stop thinking about you, not just about that or anything but just about how I felt we connected." She blushed at the memory of her heated fantasies but tried not to get distracted by them. Avoiding his eyes while she left that part of her mind, she continued. "And then as we started to hang out, I realized that it really was something." She met his eyes, searching them for understanding. "

"Can I say something?" Spike saw the hesitation in her eyes, the way her body stiffened in fear of hearing something about his old affair, something that might cause further pain or unwanted images in her mind—and he saw that she was fighting to look open and attentive. He appreciated that and decided to completely avoid mentioning it; Spike wasn't about to ruin the possibility of a future with a lingering of the past.

"When I ran into you here, I never thought I'd actually get my wish and have you here, with me. I was hoping for anything, that you would be willing just to be my friend—even though I knew I'd always want more." He reached out to press his hand against hers. "That we're here, together—that you're even willing to give this a chance—it means so much to me."

Buffy felt her eyes watering, but she didn't want to focus on the sad, didn't want to be teary-eyed at the beginning—was this the beginning?—of a new relationship. There was something about being too emotional that made her feel like some corny movie—one that ended right after the kiss, and she didn't want this story to come to an end just yet. Buffy blinked them away, trying to get a hold of herself and desperately thinking of something witty to say to break the tension. Words just couldn't come, so she simply slid her hand into his—and then tried to thumb wrestle him.

At first Spike thought she was just uncomfortable with the way their hands were joined, but then when he saw her thumb maneuvering around his own, he started to grin—he was an ace at thumb wrestling. He pretended not to notice what she was doing and caressed her thumb innocently before trapping it under his larger one.

"Hey! You tricked me!" she squealed, trying to squirm out of his grip. She looked up with a pout, eyes wide with disappointment.

Spike easily fell into her deception, because the moment he let up she grabbed the opportunity, yelling, "One, two, three Thumb Attack! Yay, I won!" she cried out, bouncing in victory on the bed.

"Oh yeah" I'll show you a thumb attack!" Spike taunted as he dove for a ticklish spot he'd discovered earlier that morning. His thumb brushed against her sides and then grabbed a foot.

"No!!" she shrieked out in laughter, barely breathing in between shouts for mercy.

Eventually, he had her pinned, arms above her head and ankles held down by his feet. He had a devilish grin on his face, one filled with victory. "So, do you give?"

"Ow, you're heavy—hold on," she muttered, trying to adjust herself to his weight.

Immediately he loosened his grip. "Sorry, I was just—"

"Hah!" she yelled again, turning him onto his back before he could finish his unneeded apology. "You're just too gullible!" she teased, straddling him and doing her best to hold him down, though it was obvious that he could get away if he really wanted to.

"You know, one day I'm not going to believe that pout of yours, and then you'll be in trouble. Haven't you ever heard of the girl who cried wolf?"

She shook her head, her silly grin of victory still in place. "Nope, never heard of such a thing."

"Ah, well, let me enlighten you. There's this girl shepherd who—"

"You mean a shepherdess?"

Spike rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "This shepherdess who always cried out that there was a wolf when there really wasn't. But one day there really was a wolf, and—"

Jiggling her hips in mock excitement, Buffy interrupted and asked, "Was it scary? Did she beat it up? I bet she won, didn't she? Because women are much—Ooomph!"

She was cut off with Spike's quick maneuver—and suddenly she was on her back again.

"Actually, she talked too much, so the wolf just ate her up." He raised his brow cockily as he began to lick her neck. "Yes, he ate her up, enjoying her flesh immensely, and then you know what happened?"

Buffy had swiftly become breathless, and she swallowed hard at the way his tongue was making her feel all fevered. "What happened?" she murmured.

"She died a little death," he whispered into her ear, right before sucking her lobe into his mouth.

Buffy's breath hitched, and all thoughts of thumb attacks and stressful mother talks and serious relationship determining discussions were forgotten at the sensations he was creating. His lips were skating down her neck, nibbling at her collarbone, shushing against the skin right above her breast. He nudged the sheet down and found one ready nipple, perky with anticipation. His mouth tightened around it, and her hands involuntarily tightened around the bed's iron headboard. He was no longer holding her down, but Buffy liked the way her body was splayed for him, there for his delight.

Spike loved the way she tasted, loved the way she mewled and sighed with every move. He made his way down her body, stopping to take in each vista along the way before finally glorying in the view between her thighs, his cheek brushing against the soft mound of her sex.

Buffy gasped at the thrill of each touch, still in awe of the simple ways in which he could make her body boil with desire. Her eyes closed, and she let herself sail away on the waves of ecstasy, her own hands threading into his rumpled curls.

Spike could see her relax into his hands, knew the moment she gave herself completely to him. Though his tongue was thoroughly engaged in giving her pleasure and swirling around that tightened bud, but his eyes drank in his own pleasure at the way her head was thrown back, the way her nipples were tightened, the way her face showed such wanton satisfaction—it made him even harder than he already was.

He was so amazing with his tongue—it made her feel almost guilty for taking so much pleasure without giving any. Shaking herself out of her pleasure-induced stupor, she sat up a little and started pulling—if weakly—at his torso.

"Yes?" Spike drawled, licking her length slowly before meeting her eyes.

"I need something to suck on, too," she purred, pulling one more time.

He cocked one eyebrow and began to climb up her body.

"Oh, no, you don't get to stop," she teased. "You just have to learn how to multitask," she murmured. As his body turned, she lay back and caressed his hardness, humming in anticipation. Her tongue reached out to swirl his head, and his groan only made her pussy vibrate. She smiled and continued to taste his cum, flicking his slit and sliding around that ring of desire.

Spike was in heaven. He was feasting and being feasted on; the feeling was incredible. It seemed like his whole body was drenched in heat; he was tasting hot honey and sinking into sun-ripened pool of warmth. Her tongue was welcoming yet urgent, and he could only moan and make his own tongue match hers in action.

They sucked and teased and licked each other with feverishness, and the moans of one merely led to the groans of the other. It was a balance of ecstasy that they both worked hard to maintain—but eventually the scales had to tip, and Buffy found herself tightening her thighs in anticipation of that climax. Spike recognized the movement and quickened his licking in delighted expectation. When her mouth stiffened around his cock, he moved in to suck her clit into his mouth, wanting to feel every orgasmic vibration. He was instantly gratified, and her whole body became taut under his, thrumming with the aftershocks of her sensual heights. He smiled at the way she throbbed erratically against his tongue, as if her body were trying to catch its breath.

When she finally did catch her breath, Buffy was determined to have Spike join her—and she attacked his cock with relish. Spike forwent all pretenses of licking her—of even thinking coherently when her hands joined her mouth in pushing him towards climax. He couldn't help but thrust into her hot mouth, loving the way her hands firmly gripped his shaft, lightly fondled his balls. She kept creating these sensations with her hand and her mouth and her nails and--

"Buffy!" he bit out, his body tensing up and finally releasing into her greedy mouth.

She hummed in satisfaction, loving the power she had in eliciting such raw responses from her lover.

Eventually his body relaxed, and it took all of Spike's energy to turn his body and not merely slump bonelessly on top of her. "You are amazing," he murmured, his eyes already beginning to drop with sleepiness.

She giggled at his quick enervation and snuggled herself into his chest. She savored the way he warmed her up so quickly with just a simple arm draped around her shoulder—it wasn't like this with anyone else. Grabbing a blanket, she covered the both of them and rested her hand on his chest, lightly caressing his skin.

He simply hummed in response, pulling her closer.

Buffy kissed his skin lovingly and then whispered, "I am willing to give this a chance. No more running away for me, I promise."

Spike opened his eyes at her declaration and met her eyes unwaveringly. "I am definitely willing to give this a chance, and I promise not to screw things up again." He leaned in and gave her a sweet kiss, one filled with hope. "And if you try to run away again, I'll just attack you with my mighty thumb."

She chuckled, not only at his words but at the way he was so clearly falling asleep. She slid her hand into his, enjoying the way they fit so nicely, when he grabbed her thumb with his own.

"One, two, three thumb attack," he murmured before finally falling asleep.

She giggled to herself, her amused expression smothered by his hard body, and followed him into his dreams.





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