It wasn't easy. Nothing on the television could hold their interest more than the thought of what they could be doing together did, the knowledge of how good it would feel if they gave in to the desire crackling between them coloring their every thought.
By the time the sun went down, Spike felt as if he were going to go insane. His every nerve was on end, his body thrumming. He'd already had to return to the bathroom one more time, and he wasn't sure he could keep from doing it yet again. Buffy didn't have to do anything to inflame him—her scent alone was enough to drive him wild.
And now the night was calling to him as well, screaming at him to be the hunter that he was. He wanted to slip out into the shadows, find his prey, feed until he'd had his full, and then come back to fuck his mate.
Instead, he was stuck inside, watching inane television geared towards American teenagers. Just bloody wonderful…
His fangs itched to slide down from his gums, to sink themselves into a human neck. He could hear the steady thump of Buffy's heartbeat, and the sound made his desire all the more unbearable, making his hunger rise inside of him until it was all he could do to keep from storming out of the room and grabbing the first warm body he found.
But he couldn't. Buffy couldn't handle his feeding, and he didn't want to hurt her even more than he wanted to feed. Taking a mate was accepting a sacred responsibility, agreeing to place the well-being of someone else above your own. Other vampires may shirk that sort of commitment, but Spike had always been too much of a man for that. If his feeding was so difficult for Buffy to bear that she'd kill herself to escape it, then it wasn't something he could do anymore.
But cor, it wasn't easy. Instinct and one hundred and eighteen years worth of habit were neither an easy thing to do away with.
With a growl of frustration, he got up from the couch, striding over to the hotel room's small kitchen area. He grabbed a bag of blood from the mini-fridge, then slammed the fridge door shut before he ripped the packet open with his teeth and dumped it into a mug. He heated the blood in the microwave and then drank it down in one gulp, trying his best to appease the raging hunger inside of him.
It wasn't enough, and Spike fought the urge to throw the mug against the wall. What was coursing through him now was more than the physically need for nourishment. His body was coiled tightly with tension, and he needed a release desperately.
He turned towards Buffy, his eyes flickering yellow as he gazed upon her. Her skin was flushed, making it quite clear to him that the desire he was feeling was not his alone. She was trying not to look at him, her body straining as she forced her focus ahead of her and not on her aroused mate. Her every muscle was taut, and while her trembling was almost imperceptible, it was there.
Spike could see her blood pumping beneath the surface of her soft skin, and he knew that while he could not fully feed from her, just a taste of her sweet, ruby elixir would do much to sate his hunger. It had been four days since he'd had his fangs inside of his mate and two since he'd filled her with his cock, and the demon had had enough waiting.
Buffy made a tiny sound then, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, and it was his undoing. Spike crossed the room to get to her so quickly he wasn't sure if his feet touched the ground, and hauled her up from the couch, gripping her shoulders tightly as he kissed her and growled hungrily into her mouth.
Buffy's eyes widened in surprise for only a moment before she returned his embrace and wrapped her arms around him, one hand splayed across his back as the other tangled in the soft, bleached hairs that curled at the nape of his neck.
Suddenly, Spike snapped back to himself, realizing what he was doing—and how he'd vowed that he wouldn't. This was what he'd been fighting all day to avoid, taking Buffy before she came to him first. He had been down this path with her already, and knew all too well where it led—a place he was sick of waking up to find himself. With a growl, he threw her back to the couch, marched into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him.
Buffy sat frozen in shock. What in the world had just happened? Spike had seemed ready to do what they'd been skating around all day and then he'd had the nerve to abandon her again and lock himself in the bathroom! Well, she'd had enough of this. She got up in a huff and stormed across the room, banging hard on the bathroom door.
"Spike! Come out here this instant!"
Behind the door, Spike growled, Buffy's bossy tone doing nothing to calm his raging erection. He rolled his eyes skyward and cursed silently before yelling back, "Go away, Buffy!"
"No!" Buffy replied. "You…you can't do what you're doing in there! I…I won't let you!"
Spike flung the door open and glared at her. "You won't let me? Well then what will you let me do, hmm? Would you rather I find some release with you?" Spike prayed she said yes…
However, as was his luck, she didn't. Instead, she replied with a haughty toss of her golden blonde hair. "No, I don't. I don't want you."
They were both well aware that her words were a lie, but that knowledge wasn't enough for Spike. He needed her to be willing to give up this pointless charade of hers once and for all. "Then what the hell is your problem?" he asked.
He expected her to yell. Instead, she said softly, "That you don't want me."
Not want her? Not want her? Spike threw his head back and laughed at the very notion. His desire for the tiny blonde woman standing in front of him now consumed every fiber of his being. Not want her…
Apparently, she misinterpreted the meaning behind his laugh, because she stuck her bottom lip out and pouted. Spike's eyes zeroed in on the moist protrusion of sweet Buffy-flesh, and he shivered. Like he wasn't already hard enough without her doing that… "Oh, kitten," he said, his voice dropping to a low register that made Buffy's skin tingle. "I want you. Very, very much."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Then why all the quality time with Rosy Palms and her five friends, huh?"
Spike quirked his eyebrow. Was she honestly daft enough to think that he'd been wanking off because he'd rather do that than bury himself in her hot, tight quim? What was it with him and insane women anyway? He decided to keep playing her game a little longer, see where it took them. "Because you don't want me," he replied.
"Yes I do!"
Spike could tell that Buffy didn't realize what she was saying until the words were out of her mouth from the way her eyes widened almost comically a split-second later. But he didn't care about that. She'd said them, and that was good enough for him. He pounced on her with a roar, tackling her down to the carpeted floor. Buffy's yelp of surprise was cut off by his demanding mouth as he kissed her until she was almost breathless.
When she was panting and writhing beneath him, Spike pulled up, his eyes gold as he stared down at her, daring her to look away. "Tell me you want me."
Buffy stared defiantly back. "No."
Spike snarled. "Say it."
"Never."
Spike roared in response, his powerful hands reaching down to tear her jeans from her body, making Buffy gasp in surprise. He moved his head down then, latching his mouth on to her clit and sucking hard. Buffy keened in pleasure, and her fingernails tore at the carpet as she thrust her hips against his talented mouth.
When he could tell she was at the edge of her peak, Spike pulled away, getting to his feet and leaving Buffy on the ground. He turned from her and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door again.
Buffy didn't stop to think as she jumped up and ran into the bathroom after him. She flung herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips as he caught her. Spike turned and pushed her against the wall, his eyes changing to blue again as he looked down at her flushed face. "Tell me you want me or I'll stop again."
Buffy trembled. "I don't want you."
Spike's body tensed, and Buffy could sense he was about to drop her before she spoke again.
"But I need you."
Spike paused at that, his head tilting slightly as he regarded her. Therein lay the crux of the thing, he realized. Beyond the need that he made rise inside of her, Buffy really didn't want him at all. She didn't like him and she certainly didn't love him. The only reason she was with him was because of the claim. Otherwise she would've taken off long ago—if he hadn't killed her. She was the daughter of a Slayer, raised by a Watcher. Vampires were only monsters to her, never something to love. He thought of every time she'd accused him of not being able to feel and realized just how true she believed that to be.
Any hope Spike had had of Buffy loving him came crashing down. It didn't matter how long he waited. It didn't matter what he did for her. He would forever be a monster in her eyes.
He wasn't sure why he'd expected anything else. He should've known it over a century ago when Cecily Underwood had informed him that he was beneath her. No woman would ever love him the way he wanted. He was what he was—always the lover, never the beloved.
So he did what he'd always done before. He pushed his own wants aside, focusing instead on the girl who had captured his heart. He could give her something, could bring her some pleasure, although he knew now that he would probably never be able to give her even a fraction of the happiness she could give him with just a smile. He braced himself against the wall with one hand before undoing his jeans with the other, letting his cock out into his hand.
Buffy threw her head back in satisfaction as he slid inside, ignoring the way it smacked against the hard plaster of the bathroom wall. She gripped Spike's shoulders as he took her, gasping over and over again as he slid in and out, bringing her rapidly towards her peak.
Her orgasmic cry was one of heartfelt release, her body too long denied the touch of her mate. Spike pumped inside of her a few more times before he groaned, coming as well.
Almost as soon as it was over, he pulled out of her, refastening his jeans as he stepped back. Buffy frowned, fighting to stand on shaky legs. Something was wrong. Spike usually held her afterwards, allowing them to bask in the afterglow together.
This time, however, he simply walked away, and Buffy fought back the tears that threatened to spring to her eyes. She realized now that Spike hadn't reached out through the claim either. She'd felt his presence as they'd had sex, but it wasn't the sort of bond that usually formed during the act. Instead he'd…held back.
Buffy didn't like that at all. It made everything seem very wrong somehow, almost dirty. The last time they'd been together had been so beautiful, going far beyond the joining of two bodies. But this…this had been a quick, wordless fuck against the bathroom wall.
She walked back into the bedroom to find Spike sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up at her, and there was a trace of something in his eyes Buffy didn't remember seeing there before. Was it—sadness? She searched for something to say, someway to make him stop looking like that. It made something inside of her twist in pain.
"Those were my only jeans."
Buffy winced at the words, so far from what she really wanted to say, though she wasn't really sure what that even was. Spike's jaw tensed, and Buffy could tell he was upset. "I'll buy you new ones tomorrow."
"Okay."
Awkward silence filled the room, and Buffy fiddled with the hem of her shirt. The room was chilly and she shivered a little, realizing that without the jeans, she didn't have a thing to cover up her legs with. "My legs are kinda cold," she said, meaning it as an observation more than anything else.
Spike didn't take it as such. He got to his feet, an anger that Buffy didn't understand kept barely in check as he snatched his duster up from where he'd draped it over a chair. "Fine. I'll go find you something now if that'll bloody make you happy." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Buffy stood in shock for a moment before she went over to the bed, and got under the covers. Tears rose to the surface again, and this time, she didn't fight them.
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