Chapter Eleven
Buffy wasn’t ready to get up just yet. She felt completely drained from the day before and sore in places she hadn’t been sore in for a really long time. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Doyle’s picture on her nightstand.
Well, that did it.
Tired, she got up, resenting every movement and padded down the stairs to make coffee. She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact she’d gone to see Spike with one task in mind and somehow ended up having sex with him on the trunk of an old car. The whole day after that had a sort of surreal feeling to it, as if she were someone else.
What was it about that man that made her unable to control herself? Aside from his good looks, tight body and heart -stopping smile.
His kindness, the way he listened to her and understood her, the way he saw right to the heart of her and didn’t let her hide. Course, not letting her hide was also what drove her crazy about him. He challenged her.
Had Doyle challenged her?
That thought horrified her. She couldn’t believe she even thought it. There would be no comparing and contrasting Doyle and Spike. They were like apples and oranges and Doyle had been her husband, her love. Spike was . . . Spike was … she couldn’t even define it. Her friend? Yes, but he felt more than that, especially after having sex with him, but it was more than that . . . She just couldn’t define it.
Perhaps it was the fact alone that she had had sex with him that was muddling her thoughts. She had never been the type to have casual affairs -- that was Anya and Faith. Buffy had a few boyfriends in high school, but never had sex until she met Doyle in college. He’d been it.
Until now.
Could she define this as moving on or was Spike some kind of rite of passage she had to go through? Like a rebound guy she had to lean on in order to pull herself together.
The fact of the matter was, she didn’t know what to make of any of it aside from the fact that she felt compelled to hide it from Anya to protect her and their friendship and she was not yet ready to tell Faith because she just didn’t know what was happening. Was it possible to just not know?
Sipping her coffee, Buffy decided she had to get out for a while. She just needed to take a drive, maybe stop by the gallery, generally just needed to get out of the house and clear her head.
She ignored the voice in her head that told her that she was avoiding Spike. She ignored the other voice that argued back she wouldn’t be able to avoid Spike for long.
Instead, Buffy decided she was developing an acute case of schizophrenia.
**********
Spike watched Buffy pull in her driveway with a wry smile. He hadn’t been waiting long, only a half hour, but he had to wonder if she was avoiding him.
Actually, he didn’t have to wonder. He knew she was. He expected it actually, which was why he didn’t just turn around and go home to wait for her to call or come over. He was going to prove to Buffy Summers – Doyle that he was not going anywhere, no matter what she did – or didn’t do.
He stood, the cooler he’d brought over next to him.
Climbing out of her car, she gave him a funny look. “Hi,” she said uncertainly.
“Hi.”
She came over, fiddling with her keys, “Have you been here long?”
“Not at all.”
“I figured you’d call . . . “
“Well, I decided to take my chances and stop by. Not avoiding me are you?”
She walked past him, heading for the door. “No, of course not.”
With her back to him, Spike leaned in from behind, placing a hand on the door and brushed his lips across her ear. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you Buffy?” he whispered huskily.
She shivered, a fact he noted smugly. “No,” she told him indignantly.
“Can I get my kiss now?”
“Not out here,” she reprimanded, slipping her key in the door and unlocking it. Once the door was open, she stepped inside and turned. Her mouth opened, ready to say something, and he beat her to the chase by kissing her soundly instead.
“You were going to say?” he asked when he parted, resting his forehead against hers.
Flushed, with her eyes slightly glazed over she cleared her throat and shook her head. “I – uh – I don’t remember.”
Kissing her quickly, he released her and went for his cooler. “I brought some food; some steak.”
A brow rose, “For lunch?”
“Or, for dinner.”
She smirked, “Oh really?”
He grinned at her, “Can’t blame a bloke for trying can you?”
“You’re kind of sly like Anya, you sure you don’t want her back?”
Spike laughed, “Anya is not that sly. She’s pretty straight-forward. And no, I don’t want her back. Remember why I broke up with her in the first place?”
“So, steak huh? You going to make them or do I have to?”
He decided to let it go that she’d ignored his question. “I’ll make them. You can just sit and look pretty,” he teased.
“I’ll make mashed potatoes and gravy instead.”
“See? You’re already helping. And hey, guess what?”
“What?”
“I’ve got a box of condoms, with all the condoms.”
Buffy burst out laughing and walked away from him, “Shut the door, please.”
Well, he thought, that’s a step in the right direction. She didn’t kick me out.
****************
“So, how is Anya anyway?” Spike asked, as they sat outside on the grass on a blanket – his request – with some lemonade, chips, and ham and cheese sandwiches between them.
“She’s fine. She just wanted to make sure I delivered the message.”
“You were sweating it out, weren’t you?”
She laughed airily, “I was. I’m not very good at lying in case you didn’t know.”
“I never would have guessed,” he said in mock disbelief, stretching out on his side and looking up at her.
She swatted him playfully and sat up on her heels. “Aren’t you a funny man? She didn’t stay long, just had to do the play by play of what you said and I even had to act it out.”
“Act it out?”
“You know facial expressions and all that. Your tone of voice, all of that stuff women do when they like a guy.”
“Oh really? I didn’t know facial expressions and the tone of voice was important.”
Buffy nodded profusely, “Oh but it is! Because if they sounded indifferent, or excited, or just pretending to be indifferent, but kind of curious, it all makes a difference.”
Spike shook his head in disbelief. “It all sounds like a lot of work to me.”
“It is,” Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. “That in itself does not make me want to join the dating world any sooner.”
“Well,” Spike drawled and reached out, tugging on her arm and making her tumble in next to him. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close. “You don’t have to worry about the dating world.”
She raised a brow, “Oh?”
He nodded and brushed her hair through his fingers away from her face. “You’re not allowed to join it as a matter of fact.”
She giggled. “Says you, right?”
He smiled,” That’s my girl,” he said proudly and kissed her before she could retort with an ‘I’m not your girl’. She was his girl; she just didn’t know it yet.
Rolling her so that he was nestled between her legs, and kicking and shoving all food particles aside, he kissed her leisurely, committing her taste to memory, savoring every moan and every flick of her tongue against his. He was rock hard and straining in his pants and she was wearing another one of those damn sundresses again. He ground himself against her and delighted in the gasp that escaped her parted mouth.
He grinned down at her, dotting her face with kisses. “You drive me mad,” he whispered between kisses. “I’m insane for you; want you so much Buffy.”
She kissed him eagerly and it occurred to him that Buffy was starved for affection. She’d gone so long without it that maybe saying she was ‘hard up’ was not that far off. Though there were better ways to say it, and he regretted ever saying it so crassly. There was a passionate, loving woman hiding behind the walls of grief, doubt and her, he thought perhaps, misguided loyalty to her friend – for what true friend would keep her from finding true happiness? Buffy could be perhaps right though, perhaps he truly didn’t understand the complexities of women relationships. Men were wired different. They didn’t let women get between them, especially if they knew said woman made their friend happy. Seemed the complete opposite for women however; seemed there was an unwritten rule – or rules—in the ways of men, women and relationships. One of them being: Thou shalt not covet thy friends ex boyfriend. Even if said ex boyfriend only left ex girlfriend because he was insane for the friend.
Augh! His mind was muddled with it. How did women do it?
Back to making love to Buffy. Ah, sweet Buffy. World be damned when she was in his arms, responding to his touch and his words – note to self: Compliment Buffy every chance you get.
He was back to hiking her skirt up again and she giggled into his mouth. He drew his head back, “What’s that then?”
“All we need is a car; seems we’re already in a pattern.”
He grinned and grabbed hold of her panties again. Her eyes widened and he dutifully ripped them.
“Spike!”
“Well, if we’re going to continue the trend. . “ he said and descended to nibble on her delectable neck.
“We should –“ moan “—go inside.”
“Nonsense. The hedged and fence are high enough to block us from prying eyes. Besides, I want you so much, Buffy, I can’t wait for inside. I need you now.”
“Condom?”
“Pocket.”
“Presumptuous?”
“Prepared.”
“That works,” and she placed her hands on the hem of his shirt. Moving her hands from there, he pushed them down to the snap of his jeans.
“Here,” he rasped with need, “Here’s where I need your touch.”
Fumbling with his snap and zipper, she succeeded in pushing his pants down off his hips. As an after thought, she reached in his pockets to extract the condom and then used her slender legs to push his pants down the rest of the way.
He groaned, “Knew I liked you for a reason.”
She smiled and kissed him sweetly and he tangled his fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss to all out hunger.
Not wanting to release her for even a second, but knowing he had to get the condom on; he reared up on his heels and ripped open the packet. Brushing his fingers away, she took the condom out and slid it down his length, pumping him with her hot, delicate little hands.
“Fuck,” he muttered when she squeezed the tip and slid down his shaft once more.
Growling, he pushed her back down and she wrapped her legs around him, grinding her center against his rock hard cock. “Spike, please,” she moaned.
“Baby, I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”
“I’m ready,” she said in husky, phone sex voice that he hoped to hear more of. To emphasize her point, she reached between them and guided him into her. “See?” she moaned as he slid inside, “All wet and ready.”
“Oh God Buffy, you don’t know what you do to me,” he groaned and slid slowly out before sliding slowly back in.
“Mmmm. . . feels so good.”
Reaching under her bottom, he lifted her hips higher, allowing him to go deeper into her. Her eyes widened at the sensation and she slid her arms down his back. “Mmmm. I want to feel you,” she murmured, reaching for the hem of his shirt again.
“Not yet,” he told her and circled his hips, hitting her at just the right angle.
Her eyes shut and she brought his head down, kissing him languidly as he stroked himself in and out of her, his pace picking up. Reaching between them, he started flicking her clit to bring on her pleasure.
“Spike, oh god.”
“That’s it, cum for me, Buffy. Cum all over my cock, beautiful girl.”
Her eyes rolled and he felt her walls start to flutter around him; she was going to go off at any moment. “Look at me when you cum, Buffy. I want you to look at me.”
Her eyes flew open and she let out a silent cry of pleasure, her walls tightening and milking him, sending him into his orgasm. He cried her name, and pumped his cock in and out, riding out his orgasm.
Collapsing against her, he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling it lazily.
“Am I crushing you?” he asked softly.
“No,” she said tiredly.
“Mind if I stay like this for a while?”
“Not at all,” she sighed, sounding happily sated.
Adjusting himself to gaze down at her, she smiled lazily up at him, her skin flushed and damp from sweat, her lips plump from his kisses. One thought ran through his mind as he beheld her: I’m in love with you, Buffy.
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