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CHAPTER 30 -- Wedding Bells

Author’s Note: Thanks to baby spikes and Jess Marie for getting me in gear to get an update out!



“And I promise to give you many orgasms if you continue to make me those delicious waffles.”

Laughter echoed through the church as Anya finished her wedding vows to Xander. The entire monologue, heavily laced with mentions of orgasms and sex toys, had the priest a deep crimson and the guests rolling in the aisles.

Spike glanced across the aisle at Buffy as she laughed at Anya’s words. He had watched her walk down the church ahead of the bride and he couldn’t help but envision his girl in white. If Anya had known that Spike’s entire attention had been devoted to Buffy and not the bride, she would have slugged him.

The priest pronounced his two friends man and wife. As the organ began to play, the newlyweds linked arm in arm and led the procession down towards the entrance. Waiting for Anya’s train to clear the way, he held his arm out to Buffy, who wound her arm through his. They shared a squeeze and a smile and began their trek to the limo.

The party was in full swing two hours later. Xander pranced his bride around the dance floor, boogieing himself into embarrassment.

Spike smiled at his spazzing friend, leaning up against the bar sipping at his scotch. He watched Buffy on the other side of the room. On her hip was Anya’s two year old cousin, Jack. Buffy bounced him up and down, swinging him around and lifting him up in the air. Over the crowd he could hear the squealing giggles of the little boy.

Buffy stole gazes over to the bar. Spike was leaned back, both elbows on the bar, and talking to Willow. His jacket was unbuttoned, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked so relaxed and sexy. Ideas fluttered through her mind of walking over to him, taking both ends of the tie, and dragging him into the coatroom. Fairly certain he would have no objection to her actions, Buffy was forced to settle the butterflies in her lower stomach.

The DJ’s voice boomed over the crowd, announcing the time had come for the bouquet toss. Knowing this would lead to some guy, most likely a drunk stranger, having to expose her thigh to the entire room, Buffy purposely shied away to the side of the dance floor, to the left of the screaming single women crowding the floor, and began a conversation with Xander’s uncle. She hadn’t seen him since they were kids and before long they were reminiscing about scraped knees and tree houses.

“Buffy!”

Buffy heard her name being called and turned around to Anya’s voice, only to see a floral arrangement flying towards her head. Instinctively, she put up her hands, completing a neat catch to the cheers of the wedding guests. Buffy stood slightly stunned, Anya’s bouquet in her hands, until Anya and Willow ushered her to the middle of the floor.

“What!? No . . . no, you guys . . .” Buffy pushed against her friends, but her heels slid across the wooden dance floor with no avail.

“Let’s hear it for the lucky lady!” the DJ called out.

Buffy turned an incredible shade of red. They sat her on a chair to the side while Anya more than happily offered up her leg to Xander to take off her garter while tacky stripper music played in the background. Buffy fingers tightened onto the sides of the chair in a death-grip.

“Now lemme see all you eligible bachelors out on this floor!” the DJ yelled out to the room.

Buffy’s eyes were darting around nervously. Oh God, what kind of weird, perverted relation of Anya’s was going to have to climb under her dress? No matter how evenly she tried to breath, the heart palpitations just wouldn’t stop.

To the yells from the guests and the countdown from five, Xander slung the garter over his shoulder. Buffy closed her eyes and silently prayed.

After the noise climaxed and quieted, Buffy ventured one eye open, then the other. Cautiously awaiting, the crowd of men slowly parted. Buffy inhaled a breath and held it -- then immediately relaxed. Standing in front of her was Spike -- the garter dangling from his fingertip. He raised a playful eyebrow at her and she couldn’t help but smile, giggling nervously in relief.

But as he approached her, her muscles tensed again. Even though Spike had caught the garter, she still had to complete the uncomfortable tradition. In front of everyone.

Buffy knew the superstition was that the higher Spike put that garter up her leg, the happier and longer Anya and Xander’s marriage would be. And Anya would accept nothing but the happiest and longest. And that meant putting that garter on Buffy until it reached her white lace panties -- embarrassingly high. She spared a glance at the bride, who was hovering closely by, truly believing her marriage rode on Buffy and Spike’s next actions. Buffy truly did want Anya and Xander to have a long and happy marriage. But at what price to her sanity? Buffy slapped her hands over her eyes.

Spike approached her, tuning out the loud music and the rowdy drunks demanding to see some leg. Slowly lifting her hands from her face, he met her eyes, giving her a gentle smirk. “Just you and me, okay?” he asked quietly, asking her to ignore the crowd and focus on him.

Buffy took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.

Catcalls and whistles permeated the room. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut in mortification as Spike knelt in front of her. He lifted her leg, placing a chaste kiss on her ankle. Buffy opened her eyes to meet his as he slid the garter over her strappy sandal, his eyes darkening. Her breath hitched at the instant tightening of her stomach, the one she always got when around him. At this point she almost wished someone else had caught the garter. Yes, it would have been just as embarrassing, but at least Buffy wouldn’t have had the overwhelming heat in her stomach to go along with it. He wrapped his fingers around her shin, hooking his thumb and one of his fingers through the garter. As his hand slid up her leg, so did his body until his forehead rested against hers and his hand disappeared up her dress. Buffy once again closed her eyes, this time to get reign over her overheated body as his fingers came dangerously close to making her moan.

“That’s enough luck for the both of them, don’t you think?” he asked, eyes sparkling mischievously.

Buffy returned his smile, nodding in reply as the guests applauded their tradition-well-done. Lifting her up from the chair, as the first notes of a slow song began to play, he brought her flush against his body, slowly swaying them across the floor.

Three hours later, Buffy walked through the garden outside the reception hall, her bouquet hanging loosely in her hand, a bit melancholy. Sure, she had helped arrange hundreds of weddings in her relatively short career, but never for a friend. With Anya and Xander’s wedding, she had seen every detail and emotion up close. And that had only succeeded in intensifying her own feelings of reflection.

She instantly brightened when she turned the corner of the garden. Across the way, sitting on a boulder, was Spike. He stood up to greet her, holding two flutes of champaign.

“Did I tell you how absolutely smashing you look tonight, luv?” he spoke, wrapping his free arm around her.

Buffy smiled, taking a flute out of his hand, “Multiple times, but feel free to keep going.” During the reception all the bridesmaids had congregated in the bathroom. The pictures having been over, they could rip apart each other’s dresses in an attempt to create something wearable. With Tara’s fashion know-how, the shortened dresses came out looking pretty good.

Buffy took a sip of her drink, “Thanks for catching the garter, I’m glad it was you.”

Spike glanced down at his shoes, “Well, I have a confession to make, luv.”

Buffy’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t catch that garter.” Buffy just looked more confused. “Harris’s nineteen year old cousin caught it. He took one look at you and seemed a little too eager. So I gave him twenty dollars and what was left of my scotch and told him to shove off.”

“Awww, honey, you bribed and gave alcohol to a minor, both illegal activities, in the name of my honor. How will I ever thank you?” She laughed gave him a kiss.

Spike pulled back, playing with the ends of her blonde strands, “Like I was going to let some bleeding wanker feel up your leg,” Spike scoffed.

Their playful kisses began to deepen until Spike broke away, “Hey, I got something for you,” he reached over to where he had been sitting and brought up a thick magazine. “Hot off the press,” he said and flipped it over. On the cover was Buffy in all her wedding glory. It was a shot from the waist up and she was looking over her shoulder, showing off the long veil trailing down behind her.

Buffy ran her fingertips over the smooth glossy cover. It seemed so long ago that she and Spike had spent that day at the studio. She felt so different now.

“God, I feel like such a loser,” she stated dully.

Spike started, her reaction not being the one he was looking for.

“Um . . . Why do you say that, luv?” Spike asked, not sure what kind of territory he was about to tred on.

“Think about it. You had to force me into the dating field.” She rolled her eyes.

“Now that’s not remotely true and you know it. I have learned long ago that you, Summers, do whatever the bleeding hell you want. Not once have I seen you weakly give into pressure.” He sighed, “You have high expectations of relationships. Love is not all hugs and puppies. It’s hard. It takes work. It’s not always happy.” He turned to face her, “And we’re not always going to like each other. Sometimes your going to want to put my head through a wall. But I will promise you with the utmost certainty that we will always be in love each other.”

Spike reached down and took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. Buffy gave him a water smile.

Spike lightened the conversation, “Now if I’m not mistaken, Miss Summers, we have an unbelievably expensive pre-paid room awaiting, compliments of Anya and her desire for no one to drive home drunk and die, therefore taking attention away from today’s nuptials.”

Buffy laughed, “Well wouldn’t be an absolute travesty for such a gift to go to waste?”

“My thoughts exactly,” he jumped up, grabbing her hand to pull her up with him.

On first entering the room, both Spike and Buffy’s expectations were grossly exceeded. True it was only a one-room living space, but the privately owned bed and breakfast made the absolute most out of the area given. Across from the door was a large brass bed. The bed was high off the ground and piled high with soft pillows on a thick, fluffy comforter, inviting the room’s occupants to sprawl across it.

Being the maid of honor and best man, who were just so conveniently a couple who would share a room, awarded them with the best. Anya was so excited that she would save money in housing both the blonde couple in one room and Willow and Tara in another, that she had been easily convinced to throw in some added perks with a little nudging by Xander, who assured Spike that they would not be housed in just any motel.

So Anya had found a quaint little bed and breakfast on the same grounds of their country club wedding.

“Wow, this room in incredible,” Buffy breathed, leaning back into Spike’s chest.

Spike was rapidly losing interest in their room, his focus quickly shifting, “You’re incredible,” he spoke, nibbling at her neck. Spike had been watching her all night, and all that dancing and shaking her ass Buffy had been doing with the other bridesmaids had been slowly driving him insane all night.

She smiled, “Me? Why me?”

“Just are. The things you do, the passion you have.” Buffy hummed at the praise. Spike shrugged, “That and you have a cute ass.”

Buffy laughed, “Oh I do, do I?” She turned to face him, walking him backwards towards the bed. “Wanna see it?” She reached behind her, grabbing at the zipper of her dress. She turned around, presenting him with a view of her spine. She peeked over her shoulder, “Help me with the bow?” she asked, glancing at the bow of the dress tied around her back.

Spike strolled up to her, taking his time to take her in with his eyes. Reaching her, he lowered himself to his knees, untying the bow as he kissed his way up her spine. Slipping his hands under the sleeves, he caressed her shoulders, bringing the front of the dress down with them.

Stopping him, Buffy turned around again to see his face, “I want you,” she breathed, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

Spike pulled back a little, “You sure?”

She tugged the rest of the dress down her hip, “Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, beginning to unbutton him. He idly traced patterns on the smooth skin of her arms and breasts, mostly hidden by her white lace bra, seemingly entranced.

It wasn’t until Buffy lowered herself down onto the bed, looking up at him while undoing his belt, that he snapped back to her. “God your beautiful,” he spoke, sliding the bra straps off her shoulders. He leaned down, reigning kisses over the exposed skin, and undoing the back clasps.

He lowered her to the mattress, crawling up her body. He dipped down to capture her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip.

Her hands snaked up under his shirt, tugging at it, pouting in protest when it wouldn’t clear his arms. He lifted off her for a moment, untangling the white dress shirt from his arms, then immediately went back to her. She smiled in triumph when she got her hands on his hard chest, running her fingers possessively over him.

He slid down her body. The second his mouth closed over her nipple, a rush of wetness flooded between her legs. She groaned at the sensation, grinding herself into his hard stomach.

He backed off and she whimpered in need. “Please, Spike . . . I need you,” she sighed.

He moved down further and kissed her hip, “Shhhhhh, settle down, luv. I’ve got you.” His hand skimmed down to where his lips had been, reaching further he cupped her mound, her wetness covering his hand, his middle finger slid into her easily.

She let out a sigh and moan in relief. But it was short lived as the pumping of his finger, the addition of another, and the continuous friction on her clit stirred her further. She gasped his name, lifting her hips to meet his hand.

“So wet . . . come on, luv . . . come for me.”

And she did. Hard. Her toes curling into the blanket beneath them.

While her walls continued to flutter, and she still reveled in relaxed bliss, he eased himself into her. At the feel of her stretching, she thought she’d come again. She moaned at the tightness, her thighs falling further apart. Her eyelids fluttered open to stare into Spike’s blue orbs. He took her hands over her head, intertwining her fingers with his. Before he got too far in, he pulled back and entered her again, not much farther than before. A little more, then a little further. When Buffy bit her lip, he reached one of his hands down to her clit, beginning a gentle massage.

“Spike,” she moaned, her head thrashing against the pillow, her mind not sure whether to pull away from his invading dick or push toward the pleasure of his hand.

She chose the latter and softly cried out when his body broke her barrier.

The feel of her body knowing him and him only, her tight muscles yielding to him. He would be the first and last man ever to fill her. A strong overwhelming wind of possessiveness overtook him.

Her internal muscles complained at the intrusion, but Buffy strove forward. Her legs lifted to squeeze his hips, urging him into her. It was then that Buffy lost control of everything. She felt herself spiraling. The constant discipline she had over herself was letting go for the first time. And it felt wonderful. Her breath lost it’s rhythm, replaced by gasping and hitching breaths. Her arms clutch to him, seemingly of their own accord, her nails scratching his back. Her hips pistoned off the bed, slamming into his, reaching for something, striving -- not sure for what, but her body could feel it.

“So close,” she breathed in his ear, followed by a high pitched little grunting noise when Spike rolled his hips hard against her.

He lowered his head to rest their foreheads together, Buffy met him halfway.

“I love you,” he panted, never stopping their quickening pace. “God, Buffy . . . Love you so much.”

Buffy smiled, placing a hand on his cheek, kissing him desperately, “Love you,” she returned. “Love you . . .” her passionate ramblings came to an abrupt halt when her body suddenly tensed, eyes closing, while euphoria washed over her whole body, she cried out at the sensation. She called his name and he buried his face in her neck, soon following her into orgasm.

Two hours later, Buffy awoke to an incessant ticking that just wouldn’t stop. Giving up on blessed sleep, she rolled over to pinpoint and stop the noise. When the origin of the sound was revealed, she giggled, kicking her legs and hiding under the covers. When the incessant clicking didn’t stop, she threw the covers away from her face, huffing giddily, “Stop taking pictures of me!”

Spike took his face away from behind the camera, where he had been capturing her beauty, tilting his head, looking at her seriously, “Never,” he answered softly.

Buffy smiled, reaching her hand out to him. At her invitation, he gladly relinquished the camera, setting it on the bedside table and climbed back into bed with Buffy, where they spent the remainder of the weekend.

TBC





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