Spike felt as though he were crawling out of his skin by the time he got home. He needed to hear Buffy's voice and have her reassure him again that it was "only ten more days". She sounded like a broken record, but he loved that she was at least consistent about it even if she herself sounded as down trodden about being away from him as he felt.
Checking his watch, he contemplated not calling. It was one in the morning for her and she had work...
Hell, he didn't care after the night he had. Picking up the phone, he dialed and held his breath that she a) wouldn't be mad and b) would be awake.
"Hello?"
"Hi luv, it's me. Did I wake you?"
"No, I was lying here awake."
"Oh? Bad day?"
She sighed, "No, I was missing you. I'm glad you called."
"You were, you were missing me?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course, silly."
"I miss you too, baby."
"Were you having a hard time sleeping? Wait, it's ten there. I think half of me is still on California time."
He chuckled, "Half of you?"
She laughed, "Yeah, you know...still not quite on east coast time."
"Well don't get on east coast time. You're going to be here before you know and then you'll just have to get acclimated back to California time."
"I still have to function while I'm here!"
"I should have gone with you," he said quietly.
"That bad?"
"Well, I really do miss you. It's not the same without you around. I've kept busy, but it's just not the same," he said, his mind thinking back to earlier events.
"I'll be back before you know it."
"Go ahead, say it. I know you want to."
She giggled, "It's only--"
"Ten more days," they said together in unison.
After laughing together, Buffy launched into how Riley the Terrible had given her a hard time about leaving. "I really think," she said, "that he is just going to miss showing me up. He went on and on about how I was one of the best. I think he just likes to stick it to me when he comes out on top. I think when I come out on top over there, I'll send him monthly letter cataloguing my success."
"You're evil."
"Damn right. Willow thinks he might have a crush on me."
"Stay away from him," Spike growled.
She giggled, "I don't think it's true."
"Just the same."
"What have you been up to since the last time I talked with you?"
Should he tell her what had happened that night or no? Was it worth it to tell her what had prompted him to go out? That would just give her fodder to worry about trusting him while she was gone, and really, what was the point in that? Even if he had worked it out on his own and the outcome had been favorable. So, he’d been restless. So he felt housebroken. He’d realized he wasn’t. Why make her feel bad by making her think she was the reason why he’d felt like a caged animal. It wasn’t her fault she had to go back to Boston, and it was something she had to do. And really, he was finding that perhaps it was something he needed her to do as well. It was a test of some sort, and now he felt even more confident in his relationship with her, and with the path he was currently on. So why upset her because he’d felt a little bit restless? It’d all stemmed from missing her, but still.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” she asked yawning.
“Pet, I want you to do something for me before I lose you to Mr. Sandman here.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you wearing your little shorts and tank?”
“I am,” he could practically hear the smile in her voice.
He grinned devilishly. “Make you a deal?”
“What’s that?”
“You take off your clothes, and I’ll take off mine.”
She giggled, “You really want to do this?”
“Hey, you got my imagination runnin’ wild when you suggested it. You bet your cute arse I want to do this,” he told her, chuckling. “Hold on, I’m taking em’ off.” Setting the phone down, he whipped off his shirt and jeans and laid back on his bed, phone firmly pressed to his ear with one hand, while the other rested on his belly. “Pet?”
“Hmmm?”
“You naked yet?”
“Yes.”
He grinned, “That’s my girl. You know what I want you to do now?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”
He laughed. “I want you to touch those luscious tits for me luv. I want those nipples hard. Roll them between your fingers. Use both hands if you can.”
“Spike...” she said breathlessly, and it sounded as if she were halfway between wanting to do it, and feeling uncertain about it.
“Come on baby, pretend its me when I play with them...suck on them...get them hard...” He was turning himself on, as a matter of fact. He was imagining her doing it to herself and he was hardening fast.
Silence.
“Pet?”
“I’m doing it,” she whispered.
“Tell me what you’re doing, luv. Part of this is you telling me every. Delicious. Detail.” His voice lowered to husky timbre, the same kind he knew she liked. She told him his voice alone could bring her off, and he was banking on that right now. He wanted to hear her scream the bloody rafters off.
She let out a shuddering sigh, “I’m...licking my fingers...and now I’m...ahh...twisting my nipples with my wet fingers.”
“Oh fuck,” he moaned, “Pretend it’s me baby. Close your eyes and pretend it’s me.” Meanwhile, his hand was now stroking his fully erect shaft. There was no way he could hold off from touching himself while she relayed to him what she was doing.
He heard her moan softly and say his name. He closed his eyes, pretending it was her stroking him. “What do you want me to do baby?” he asked huskily.
“I want you to touch your nipples too. I know you like it when I lick them and suck on them.”
Oh boy did he. And just imagining her...he reluctantly lifted his hand from his cock and slid his hand up to his nipples, pinching them and rubbing them. “They’re hard for you, pet.”
“Now I want you to spit in your hand and stroke yourself. Imagine it’s my mouth on your cock,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with passion.
His shy girl was getting into it, and if possible, he got even harder from it.
“Oh yeah?” he drawled, “I want you to slide your hand down to your sweet pussy, baby. I want you to take your middle finger, and run it up your slit...tell me what you feel.”
“Mmmm....wet. So wet, Spike.”
“Rub your clit, baby. Rub it and then stick your finger in your wet pussy.”
“Spike...” she moaned.
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m rubbing my clit, up and down....all around...”
“Fuck, I wish I was there. Pretend it’s me, baby, pretend it’s me doing that,” he said breathlessly, stroking himself in long, firm strokes.
“You are... oh god...and now I’m sticking my finger in my pussy.”
His breath hitched at her use of that word and he slowed his stroking. He was close, and he wanted to cum with her.
“Fuck yourself, Buffy. If you can, put two fingers inside you and pretend it’s my cock fucking you.”
She moaned, “Oh yes....two fingers inside my wet pussy...oh God, Spike, that feels so good.”
“Yeah...that’s my girl. Fuck yourself...”
“Stroke yourself.”
“Oh, I am...Can you rub your clit, baby? Rub your clit and fuck yourself.”
“Oh...Spike...I’m not gonna last much longer.”
“I want you to lose it, Buffy...”
“I want you to cum with me.”
“I will, I will...you fucking yourself hmm? Imaging my big cock fucking your wet pussy?”
”Yes...” she moaned. “Spike...I’m gonna....I’m....Augh!”
Hearing her release of pleasure, sent Spike over the edge and jerking fast, he came, spewing his cum onto his stomach in thick spurts. “Fuck!” he shouted. “Buffy!”
“Oh, Spike,” she said, sounding listless and tired now.
Panting from his huge orgasm, Spike felt himself go boneless and soft. “Buffy, I love you.”
“I love you too, Spike.”
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” he teased.
She giggled, “Oh, yes.” She sighed, “I wish you were here.”
“I wish I were too. Or that you were here with me.”
“Soon.”
“I know,” she said and yawned.
“I better let you get some sleep, luv.”
“Is this a preview for later? We have sex and then we both roll over to sleep?”
He chuckled, “We’ll roll over, but I’ll be holding you in my arms when we do.”
“Sounds like a plan. Night.”
“Night, luv.”
Hanging up, Spike stared up at the ceiling, a goofy smile on his face, thinking of his Buffy.
The phone ringing in Spike’s ear jarred him out of a deep sleep. Reaching blindly for the phone, he picked it up and answered with a groggy “Hello?” His eyes still closed.
“Finally! Have you seen US Weekly, Star and oh, various other rags this morning perchance?” It was none other than publicist extraordinaire, Randy.
“No, why the bloody hell do I care about that?”
“Oh, maybe because there are pictures of you and an unidentified female – or rather, females, plural – all over them?”