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Ch. 4: An Interlude

When she awoke, Buffy found her face nuzzled into a smooth chest exuding warmth. She murmured contentedly, rubbing her cheek against his body. Her hand instinctively ran over his hard abs and began creeping down to feel his cock.

"Uh-uh, unless you want to give up one of your wishes," Spike mumbled as he slowly opened one of his eyes and attempted to give her a chiding glare but failing miserably.

"Well, that's just not fair," she complained, pouting. "I wake up against this beautiful body and I'm not allowed to play with it?" She stretched loudly, rubbing her ass against him. "What? I'm stretching."

"Minx." He chuckled as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm breaking rules as we speak, sleeping with you."

"Ooh, you broke rules for me? No rose this time?"

"Actually, I tried to leave, but you're pretty strong. Ow!" he exclaimed as she hit him in protest. "This is what I'm talking about. The minute the fantasy was over, you weren't submissive. Ow again!" he yelled. He caught the hand that was beginning to run down his back and towards his ass. "Ah-ah-ah, we'll have none of that."

Buffy pouted and yet was still unsuccessful in convincing him to let her hand roam all over his sexy body. Sighing dramatically, she threw off the covers and slid out of bed. "Fine, fine. Can't fill one hunger, might as well fill another." She threw on her robe and then stomped out of the room.

Spike groaned loudly before following her lead into the kitchen. Clad in his usual black sweats, he found Buffy contemplating a bag of popcorn or leftover Chinese.

"You're kiddin' me, right? You're not seriously thinking about eating either of those things, are you?" he asked as he approached her.

"No need to make fun of my cooking. We can't all be genies who get everything at the snap of fingers," she retorted, deciding to go with the popcorn.

Spike quickly took the bag away from her. "No, we can't, but my ability to cook has nothing to do with my being a genie. I'm all about the food network. I could even be your naked chef, if you want." He waggled his eyebrows at her while putting the popcorn back. "However, there's more than enough time for that when you make your wish. Right now, it's morning, and morning time is for breakfast. You just sit back and watch the master." He maneuvered her to a stool by the counter and pushed her into it.

"How do you know I'll like what you're making? Maybe I was just craving popcorn," Buffy grumbled, resting her pout on her hands.

"Oh, you'll like it. If you don't, I'll make it up to you." He winked at her as he deftly brought out ingredients for a hearty breakfast.

She watched in amazement as he threw various ingredients together to create French toast with strawberries, bacon, home fries--who knew she had potatoes?--and a fresh pot of coffee. Her mouth watered at the food and at the way he glided around the kitchen. She felt her heart chasing after this genie, this non-man who could make her hunger in so many ways. She buried the thought, diving fork first into the food.

Spike grinned at the way she ravished her food while he slowly sipped his coffee, leaning against the sink. She had such an appetite for life, or at least for everything he had to offer her. With her, Spike felt accomplished, needed. It seemed like such a simple concept, and one that appeared unnecessary since his job was to bring sexual satisfaction to his targets. Obviously if he was sent to them, they were in need. However, they didn't often see him as an actual person, one worth spending time with. Buffy seemed to enjoy his company as well as his sexual prowess. It was a nice feeling. He grabbed a strawberry off her plate and grinned.

"Hey! What's wrong with your strawberries?" Buffy complained, her mouth filled with food.

"Nothing. Doesn't mean I don't want yours," he teased, snagging another one.

"You better watch it, mister. You don't know how I get when it comes to food." She blocked his next move with her fork and then glared evilly at him.

Spike laughed. "Fine, fine. Eat your food. I'm sure I'll get some of yours later," he said with a smirk. He laughed again at her blush, which she tried to cover up by stuffing her face more. That she could blush in front of him after they'd had two incredibly erotic and vulnerable sexual encounters struck him as endearing; with a tilt of his head, he watched her with affection cushioning the harder edges of his heart.

They spent the afternoon leisurely, with Buffy introducing him to the basic necessities of life:

Fight Club--
-That is one fucked up bloke.
--Yes, but he's so damn sexy. I'd do them both.

Haagen-Dazs Bailey's Ice Cream--
-Bloody brilliant, whoever created this flavor.
--I know. Wait till you have it as a shake!

American Idol--
-Oh, awful! Poor Sir Elton must be covering his ears with rhinestone-ringed fingers.
--You don't think the red hair is cute? I mean, sometimes singers aren't just about the singing.
-You are joking, right? Please tell me you're joking

and TiVo--
-Wait, rewind. I wanna watch that scene again.
--I'm starting to hate Passions with a passion.

They laughed and ate and napped and laughed some more. Buffy seemed completely content to relax with him; not once did she bring out her list of options or mention the impending third wish. And that suited Spike just fine.

It was not until the end of the week that Buffy mentioned anything about the fantasy wishes. They were eating another one of Spike's home-cooked meals of risotto and baked chicken when Buffy began expressing her thoughts.

"So, I noticed that when I'm in the fantasy, I never know what's going on in that mind of yours. And if it were a true fantasy--you know, like the kind I read in those romance novels--I'd get a sense of what was going on inside of you. Is that too much to ask?" She batted her lashes at him and tried to compel him to acquiesce. "To be able to see when you're affected and what you're thinking, at least a hint of it? You think you could do that for me?"

Spike took a sip of wine while observing the lashes and the pout and the coy smile out to get him. Swallowing slowly, he tilted his head to look at her. "It's not exactly within the established boundaries. And why is that necessary?"

"Because. I think it's a necessary part of my sexual healing. I need to know that I'm being effective, that men are affected by my presence," she replied matter-of-factly.

"You've been thinking about this for a while?" he commented.

"Well, I just always feel a little unsure about what I'm doing. I've never really had the courage to just go after what I want. I'm sure you know my history. It's always been about waiting for the guy to approach me, to kiss me, to dump me. Not the best experiences. I just feel like I'd have a lot more confidence if, for just once, I got to know what men were thinking around me."

"I'm sure you'd be more disgusted than enlightened if you knew what every guy thought when he was around you," Spike said dryly.

"That's exactly why I want my fantasy to include your thoughts. It's a controlled situation, so it's only about knowing what the guy's thoughts are when I come on to him--subtly, of course. Not that I'm quite ready to wish yet, but I have been thinking about it." She began moving her food around on her plate idly. "I have to say," she added, eyes downcast, "I think life will be a little boring without you."

"Glad to be of entertainment--my duty and all," he replied rather brusquely, rising to put his plates into the dishwasher.

"Not like that. I mean, not that the sex isn't good and all, but it's been really fun just having someone to talk to, to hang out with, to be with. Haven't you been enjoying yourself as well?" Buffy asked haltingly.

With dirty plate in hand, Spike paused before answering. "Yeah, I have," he answered stoically, rinsing his plate before putting it down. "I have, but it probably helps that I'm a guaranteed lay."

Abruptly standing, Buffy walked over to the sink to look Spike in the eye. "Do you really think that? Do you really think I only hang out with you because you can fuck like a stallion? Because if that were the case, why bother spending any time with you? Why bother eating with you, sleeping next to you, watching fucking Passions with you if I didn't actually want to do anything besides fuck you? I'm sorry if I sound vulgar, but that's the person you're making me out to be," she snapped.

Spike remained silent, listening to her rapid and exasperated breathing. "Are you finished?" he asked calmly.

"Depends on what you have to say," she retorted, angrily crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, eyes still down.

"I'm listening," Buffy answered, her voice only slightly warmer.

"I'm just not used to people treating me like something beyond a walking dildo, and so I just assumed that you were just slower to get to that point." He turned to retrieve the rest of the dishes from the table.

Buffy stilled his movements and looked up into his face fully. "Spike, I will admit that your genie-status does make you a bit unapproachable, but that doesn't negate your personality or the enjoyment I get just from being with you. In fact, I've been kind of putting off that last wish because I don't want you to leave yet." She rested her hands on his arms to reassure him.

"I wondered about that, but I just assumed that you were planning out your last fantasy." He was still so uncertain, which amazed Buffy considering the confidence he'd conveyed when he'd first appeared to her.

"Well, I have been doing that--let's not idealize me too much. But spending my vacation with you, not just with you in me, has been pretty damn wonderful. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. Please don't believe that's all I think of you." She stared into his blue eyes with sincerity and hoped he could feel her honesty.

Finally, he smiled gently at her and kissed her forehead. "Okay, sweet girl. Tell me about this last wish. We'll make it a kicker."

She smiled brightly and launched into her description, eyes flashing with confidence and excitement. "Well, I've always had this fantasy about a library..."





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