Slamming the cabinets in the Watcher’s kitchen, Spike angrily searched for something – anything – to take his mind off of the nightmares that continued to plague him.
It had been a week. Seven excruciating days and the memory of Buffy’s lips on his, was still fresh in his mind. He remembered every detail. The way she’d naturally fit with him. The way her arms wrapped around his body, pulling him for fully against her. The softness of her lips on his.
Growling in frustration, Spike picked up the nearest object he could reach, hurling it at Giles’ bookshelf. “Bloody bitch!” he yelled, inhaling sharply as he looked up, seeing something he’d never planned to find in the Watcher’s home. Crossing the room, he smirked as he reached into the bottom of the hollow bookshelf, carefully avoiding the splintered wood as he extracted the bottle from beneath the broken shelf.
“Well well,” he muttered to himself, opening the bottle and smiling at his find. “Who knew the old man would have a bit of contraband in his possession.”
Taking a sip of the liquid, Spike closed his eyes as it burned its way down his throat, suddenly grateful that Giles had left him without a ‘baby-sitter’ while he was taking Olivia to the airport in Los Angeles. Because there was no way he was planning on sharing his find.
Tilting the bottle of Absynthe back, he swallowed a portion of it, enjoying the fast affects it was having on him. Falling back into a chair, he let his eyes close, draining the rest of the bottle, feeling the burning sensation course through his chest. This was what he needed. To feel nothing for a few blissful hours.
* * * * *
“Spike. Spike.”
His name drifted toward him, penetrating his foggy brain. The voice sounded fuzzy and familiar, but opening his eyes he couldn’t focus on it. Everything seemed to be covered in a greenish haze as he blinked to attempt to focus his eyesight. He could feel pleasure coursing through him as he struggled to find his release. Looking downward, he was surprised to see the unfocused sight of his own hand gripping his cock as he frantically sought his climax.
“Spike!”
The voice finally pulled his attention away from his goal. Turning to his left, he frowned, blinking several times to focus on the object floating in front of him. “Who are you?”
She tilted her head, an angelic smile on her pixie face. “You know who I am,” she said, an amused gleam playing in her eyes.
“Why are you flying?” he asked, staring at the fairy who continued to float in front of him, taunting him as she seemed to lazily wander back and forth through the air.
“I am?” she asked with a smile, spinning around in a circle in the air before facing him again. “It must just be a habit of mine.”
“Well, stop it,” he snapped. “Bloody annoying. I don’t need any bleeding fairies to give me a headache. Can do that just fine on my own,” he continued, shutting his eyes against the sight, refocusing on his task. Reopening them a moment later, he sucked in a breath when at the sight of the little fairy with her small hands around his cock. “What the-”
“Shhh,” she whispered, a coquettish smile on her pretty face. “I won’t tell,” she whispered.
Past the point of caring what was done to him, Spike leaned back in his chair, his hips lightly thrusting with her measured strokes. Groaning when he felt the moist tip of her tongue on him, Spike gasped as he gripped the arms of his chair, surprised at the strength in the tiny hands as his shirt was ripped open with little force, scattering the buttons across the crypt.
“Just relax,” she said in a soothing voice. “I’ll make you feel good.”
“Already are,” he rasped, gritting his teeth as she continued working her magic on him.
He didn’t know when the strokes began to lengthen. Didn’t know when he began to pant in sharp gasps. Didn’t know when he nearly lost control. The only thing he could focus on was the blissful feel of his release – the muscles in his neck strained as he looked at the ceiling, feeling the ropey strands of his come hitting his stomach. Shivering a moment later, he collapsed more heavily into his chair, not wanting to think about the weird situation he was in, only focusing on the relaxation that seemed to accompany his shuddering orgasm.
“Amazing,” he murmured, his voice already sleep-addled as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Slowly standing up from her crouched position on the floor, Buffy took a moment to admire her handiwork. She had originally walked in Giles’ apartment to talk to Spike – wanting to put some of the weirdness from the previous day behind them.
But walking in and seeing him so frustrated that he couldn’t find his release was her undoing.
Then, when he wondered why she was flying and had called her a fairy… well, that was just laughable.
She was tempted to leave him where he was. To wake up with his hangover and see the evidence of what his ‘fairy’ had done to him while he was practically drugged with the illegal drink.
But knowing that Giles would be home in a few hours and might stake Spike on sight, not only for taking his alcohol and the destruction of his furniture, but also for what he’d done in his ‘sleep’, she took pity on the vampire.
Carefully recapping the bottle, Buffy replaced it beneath the broken boards of the shelves. She did her best to replace the pieces before turning back to the unconscious vampire.
Refusing to clean him up – there were limits to her generosity – Buffy carefully tucked him back into his pants, nearly squeaking in surprise when he began to harden as a result of her renewed handling.
Taking a deep breath as she stood up, she studied him for a moment while he smacked his lips in his sleep, idly scratching his chest before turning his head toward her.
Taking a minute to admire the boyishness of his face when he was asleep, Buffy tenderly ruffled his hair, not feeling the least bit ashamed for what she’d done earlier. “Good night, Spike,” she whispered, hesitating for a moment before brushing a kiss to his forehead, never hearing his whispered reply as she turned and walked out the door.
“Good night, Goldilocks.”