About thirty minutes after her meeting with Giles and Angel, Buffy knew that there was no way she’d be able to wait until nightfall to see Spike. Not when she was bursting with this much happiness; not when all her fears for their once-uncertain future had been cast aside. She felt that she’d been waiting lifetimes for this—for some confirmation that her heart was secure, and now that she knew that it was real, the thought of waiting, even a matter of hours, was agonizing.
The night held a bizarre mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She didn’t know how she was going to tell him—how to explain that the night he’d kidnapped her, he’d also bitten her thigh and that she had decided to not tell him. At first, yes, her decision had been well-founded. Spike was supposed to have left town and never return, and the bite, other than being literally orgasmic to touch, was nothing more than a blemish. She hadn’t known. It had been something that was hers. Only hers. And by the time that she realized that he wasn’t going away—that he would eventually find out—it had been too late.
Now she had to tell him. She had to tell him that he’d claimed her. That there was no spell. That the pull between them had nothing to do with Drusilla. That the reason they yearned for each other was because of an incomplete claim, and once she made everything right, there would be no more aching. No more nausea. There would be nothing but the simplicity of being together, and all the bad would be cashed in for good. What they’d earn in pleasure would completely trump everything they’d experienced in pain.
Pain like the familiar, stabbing cramp in her stomach. Pain that wasn’t hers.
Buffy frowned and sat up with a jolt that had the students around her jumping in surprise. It rushed through her fast—so fast that she found herself clutching the edges of the desk as the first waves crashed over her overly-excited nerves. It had been so long since she’d suffered the pangs of separation that she barely remembered what they felt like.
Spike. Spike was in pain, and she felt it because they were connected. Because of the claim. He was in pain, and he needed her. And she wasn’t about to waste time in some boring class when he needed her.
It didn’t take much to sneak away. She fed her teacher some overused excuse, and was dismissed from class without incident. Mrs. Worthington was used to her excuses, after all, and like many teachers, to Snyder’s dismay, had long since ceased the campaign to keep Buffy in class. It always proved fruitless; Buffy had a way of making herself very much elsewhere when she put her mind to it.
“Do I even need to pretend that you’ll be back?” the old woman asked tiredly. “Or are we past this?”
Buffy smiled guiltily and shrugged. “I think we’re way past, Mrs. W. But I’ll have—”
“Mr. Giles write you a note?”
She nodded, the smile remaining. “Uh-huh.”
“I’ll wait with baited breath. See you tomorrow.”
Okay, so sneaking out wasn’t as much fun when the teachers didn’t object. Oh well. Nothing much lost. At least she didn’t need to look over her shoulder.
Besides, Spike needed her. It had barely been twelve hours, and he was suffering the pangs of separation. She didn’t know why the leash kept getting shorter, but it did. Perhaps it was because he’d been at her side faithfully for nearly two days as she got better. Perhaps the longer they were together, the shorter they could be apart.
It didn’t matter. It would be over tonight.
There would be no more pain.
Buffy pursed her lips and dropped her backpack the second the door behind her slammed shut. She jumped in spite of herself, then frowned and huffed a small grumble. Stupid crypt doors. They really had a way of ruining the element of surprise.
Not that surprising Spike was really what she was going for, but it was an added bonus.
Only, at first glance, the crypt was empty. She’d only been here twice before—the night that he had stumbled across her in the cemetery and they’d ended up with the wild monkey love on the floor, and then four nights ago. When he’d brought her here and they’d made love in the rocker and added an amendment to the plan.
Sometime over the weekend, Spike had told her how excited he was that he’d found himself a place at all. And though she couldn’t see getting wiggy and excited over a crypt, he was strangely proud of it. Something about having a place of his own for the first time…ever. A place he’d picked. And while she wouldn’t choose it over a night at the Waldorf-Astoria, she couldn’t deny that the crypt had a strangely homey feel.
Maybe that was just because she knew it belonged to Spike.
To be fair, he’d actually done a lot to make it homey. The floors were covered with rugs. There were a few scattered pieces of furniture and a television with admittedly crappy reception, though he was talking about getting a DVD player or something in the near future.
“Spike?” she asked softly. He was nowhere in sight. “Spike…it’s me.”
Well, that was lame. Who else would it be?
He must be downstairs. And considering that the sun was hanging high in the sky, he was likely sleeping.
And aching. He was aching because of her.
Buffy sighed and walked over to the trapdoor that led to the lower level. “Well,” she said dryly, wincing at the metallic clank that bounced off the walls. “If that doesn’t wake the dead, I don’t know what will.”
She didn’t know whether to be amused or surprised to find Spike sound asleep. Very naked and very asleep. He was gorgeous when he slept. Well, he couldn’t be anything but gorgeous if he tried. Spike could juggle fish entrails; it didn’t matter. He was a work of art.
A work of art that was currently whimpering and holding his stomach. Buffy sucked in a deep breath, drawing her shirt over her head as she kicked her shoes off. He was in pain because of her. Because of her stupidity and her unwillingness to listen to Spike when he assured her that what he was feeling was real. That he truly cared for her, and wouldn’t leave her when the spell was over.
Only there was no spell. There had never been a spell. She was in love with Spike because she was in love with Spike. And he…well, he certainly felt for her. And she was his; she was his, and he’d be hers before the night was over. They’d belong to each other. And all the other things, like her sacred duty, his blood-drinking habit, and the ongoing battle between good and evil could take a much needed break from being number-one on her priorities.
Well, okay, so she hadn’t been active slay-girl since Spike barreled into her life. Her priorities had been a little askew over the past few weeks. And the world hadn’t ended and it didn’t look like it was going to anytime soon. It wouldn’t hurt anything if she took another couple days off.
Buffy worried a lip between her teeth and cast her eyes heavenward. Please? At least a few hours?
Oh well. If there was a big evil to fight, she was certain that she could convince Spike to help her out. The sooner the big evil was defeated, the sooner they could race each other back to bed.
The thought filled her insides with warmth. They could do those things. She could fight evil, slay demons, and Spike would be at her side. And at the end of the day, they could go back to his place and do the coupley thing. Or to her place. Or maybe they could rent a hotel room somewhere. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was that there was no more hiding. No more ignoring her lusty feelings—or trying to—and no more worrying about the fate of her heart.
Buffy sucked in a breath and turned her hands to the clasp on her jeans, then hesitated. If she got naked, he’d want to make sure she got off, too, and she wasn’t here for that. No matter that the mark throbbed. No matter that she ached for his touch there like nothing else. She wasn’t here for her needs. Not now. She’d felt Spike’s pain and she wanted to ease it. She wanted to comfort him the way he’d comforted her. She wanted to repay everything he’d given her. The wealth of what he’d given her.
Thus she approached the bed, dressed only in her jeans. She felt strange but empowered. Making decisions like this, on some level, made them equals. It was something that Spike had been trying to make her see for a while now; she was only now catching up with him.
He twitched violently as she approached the bed, holding his stomach. Her insides ached with his pain. There was no reason for pain. She would erase it, and there would no longer be any pain between them. No pain. She’d paid her pound of flesh for the colossal wrongness that was slayer-falling-for-vampire, and there was nothing standing between them anymore.
Spike whimpered again, his head jerking. “Buffy—”
“Shhh.” She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, running her fingers through his hair. She was always surprised at how soft his hair was. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Buffy…”
She brushed a kiss across his chest. “Sleepyhead,” she murmured affectionately. Then she turned and climbed to her knees, casting her legs astride his waist. “Semi-naked girlfriend here. You really don’t wanna miss out.” A tender smile flitted across her face, and she leaned forward until her breasts were pressed to his chest. “It’s okay,” she murmured, peppering his throat and chin with small, soft kisses. “It’s okay.”
“Buffy?” Spike blinked awake slowly, then moaned and cast his head back. “Oh, Christ. I thought I was dreaming.”
She giggled. God, this feeling was addictive. “You dream of me often?”
“Every sodding night,” he murmured, thrusting his pelvis upward. “I was…something was wrong.”
“Everything’s okay now.”
“What’re you doing here, pet?”
Buffy giggled and kissed his nipple, her right hand sliding down his abdomen. “Don’t you want me here?”
Spike whimpered again. “I never want you anywhere else. Oh, fuck, touch me.”
She arched a brow. “You want me to touch you,” she echoed, sliding down his body slowly. A kittenish grin stretched her lips, her hand curling around his cock. “Like this, huh?”
“Jus’ like that.”
“I’m gonna try this again.” Her grin widened and she licked a long path from the base of his erection to the tip. “I wanna make you feel good.”
“You do make me feel good, baby.” Spike sucked in another moan when she wrapped her lips around his head and suckled tenderly. “God, your tongue.” Her eyes floated up the lean expanse of his body, and she smiled, dropping her hands to cup his balls. “Bleeding hell, Buffy…”
“Your skin tastes good.”
Spike squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered again. “You’re killing me,” he panted, thrusting deeper into her mouth. “I needed you.”
“I know,” she whispered, dotting kisses along the underside of his length. “I felt you, and so I came.”
“You…you felt me?”
“Uh huh.” She dipped her head lower, grinning as she wrapped her lips around his sac, her right hand curling around his cock and pumping him slowly. “I felt you. I skipped school. I came. You were all sleepy and cute and naked.”
“I am…not…cute,” he ground out. “Buffy, please.”
“Please what?”
“Need you…your mouth around my…” She grinned and released his balls with a parting lick, taking his cock between her lips once more. “Oh, fuck yeah. God, what you do to me.”
“What do I do to you?” she asked. She swept her tongue along his sensitive head, and her grin broadened at his answering moan. She loved this. She loved the feminine empowerment. The wealth of what he’d given her simply by helping her embrace her womanhood. The sexual being buried beneath layers of strength. The woman within who wanted love and pleasure to counteract the blood and violence that came with her vocation.
“You’re—oh God, jus’ like that, pet.” Spike purred, his fingers threading through her hair, his hips swirling to find a steady rhythm. “Your mouth is so hot. So bleeding perfect. Ahh…”
“Not really.”
“Yes, really. God, Buffy…”
She smiled and released him, a womanly vibe rippling down her spine when he shrilled a gasp and sat up, wide-eyed.
“Oh, God, please!” he cried, and the desperation in his voice made her shiver in all the right places. The idea that she had any sort of power over him made her weak with desire. Even when she’d been with Angel and they’d had the whole star-crossed thing going, she hadn’t thought of herself as anything special. She wasn’t the sort of girl that men fell in love with. She always saw herself as the way she’d been treated at Hemery—cute, blonde, bubbly, with nothing going on upstairs. With Angel, things had been soft and sweet and safe…well, up until the killing of her friends began. And though he’d never really given her a reason to think so, she’d always felt that the basis of his attraction to her was rooted in her slayage. If she hadn’t been the Slayer, he would never have wafted into her life.
Granted, the same could be said about Spike. But he’d made it very clear, especially considering her recent bout as a non-superhuman-human, that her powers meant nothing to him in the long run. The only thing that said powers had been instrumental in was bringing them together. And yes, while the idea of getting to wrassle it out with Spike every now and then made her tingle in a very good way, she was much happier knowing that he liked her for her.
Something, evidently, that wasn’t entirely odd. As Giles had told her in his explanation of humans who find themselves claimed by vampires, history had known several exceptions to the vampires-eat-humans law in the form of vamps who fell in love with humans.
“Buffy, please,” Spike begged, wrapping his hand around his cock. “I need you. I need you so bloody badly.”
“I wanna try something.”
He paused and arched a brow, his shoulders rolling back and his eyes flashing with interest. “Something new?”
“Something I read…” She broke his gaze and blushed furiously. “Something I read…”
Spike studied her for a long beat, arching a brow. “Have you been reading dirty magazines?”
“One of Xander’s.”
He fought off a grin. “Xander jus’ loaned you his collection, pet?”
“As if! I found it in his locker.” Her blush deepened. “I-I…I just don’t want you…I want to learn things to…with you. I don’t want to…bore you.”
Everything stopped. The pants that heaved through his chest. The needful strokes he gave his cock. The silence that fell around them was deafening. A few long seconds passed before she summoned the courage to look up. She swallowed a gasp when she met Spike’s eyes. He was staring at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Buffy shifted nervously. She felt more than out of place; her mouth perched over his cock, his eyes burning into hers. “Did I say something wrong?”
“In a million years, Buffy, you could never bore me.”
Oh God. Swoonage.
Though, when they hit their million-year anniversary, she was so going to call him on that.
“A million years, huh?” Buffy grinned and dipped her mouth again, suckling at the head of his erection. “How about two?”
“Oh, Buffy…”
She giggled and licked him again. “Is that a yes?”
“For-sodding-ever. I’m yours for eternity.”
God, she loved hearing that and knowing it. Believing it. Not having it tagged with a gut-wrenching fear that he was going to leave her.
“I wanna try this,” she murmured, giving his head one last lick before she moved to sit up. “I-I’ve heard that…some guys like…putting their…umm, things.” She tore her gaze from his cock, but the only other place to look was his eyes, and that was so not a go. “Ummm. Between my…uhhh…” She flushed and tried to smile, cupping her breasts demonstratively. “My…”
Spike arched a brow. “Are you askin’ me if I wanna fuck your titties?”
“Well, not like that, you perv! Only…” She ducked bashfully. “Yes, that. But…less with the…okay, just say it. I’m a crazy woman and—”
“Buffy…” He smiled tenderly and sat up, cupping her cheek. “Come here…”
She pouted. “I like it here,” she said, her mouth dropping to lap a wet path up his cock again. “And I wanna try my thing.”
“Let me fuck your titties?” he purred, his brows waggling.
“If you have to say it like that.”
“I think I do.”
Buffy flashed him a smirk and sat up, perching his cock between her breasts. “Okay,” she said nervously. “What now?”
“Jus’ hold still, baby,” he murmured, a catlike purr rumbling through his body. “I’ll do all the work.”
“I don’t want you to work.”
“Trust me…” Spike rumbled, beginning to thrust his hips again. “Ohhh, yeah. Jus’ like that.”
It was admittedly a strange sensation, but the look on his face quickly drowned out any of her numbered misgivings. The idea that she could bring anyone such pleasure simply by offering her body was more than a little intimidating. She shuddered a sigh and tried to ignore her screaming nerves and the butterflies that liked to live in her stomach whenever she allowed her feminine side to overpower the part of her that was, in many ways, still the quivering virgin. When she attempted to do something sexually new and bold.
“I can feel your heart beating,” he murmured, reaching down to tug at her nipples. “God, you don’ know what you do to me. Watching my dick move between—”
“You’re making me blush,” she protested softly, biting back a moan.
“I like it when you blush.” Spike gasped and threw his head back. “Lick me, pet. Need your tongue.”
If her skin grew any hotter, she’d start melting in the literal sense. Rather, she nodded and licked at his velvety tip with every thrust of his hips.
“You’re so perfect,” he moaned. “So bloody perfect.”
“Am not,” she retorted, lapping at his head.
“Don’…argue…with me.”
“You really like this?” It came out sharper than she’d intended, and when he narrowed his eyes in question, she ducked her head and fought the urge to shrink back. “I mean…you’re not just humoring me? I wanted to…and I know…I’m sorry my boobs aren’t…well, bigger. I…the…” Okay, he was looking at her like she was insane. Again. “I’ll just…look for a hole in the ground that hasn’t swallowed anything recently.”
Spike sat up immediately and cupped her face again. “Don’ be ridiculous,” he murmured, kissing her mouth sweetly. “When I say you’re perfect, woman, I mean it.”
“You’re—”
“Absolutely mad for you, an’ if you don’ know that by now…” He kissed her again and smiled. “Get up here.”
Buffy jerked back and shook her head, her hand returning to his erection. “I want…this is for you. Not me.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” She smiled and, before he could say another word, engulfed his cock with her mouth once more. Spike moaned and flopped back to the mattress, thrusting his hips upward. She took him in as far as she could, until his head brushed against the back of her throat. She hadn’t tried this since the night his demon had come loose and forced her mouth around him—hadn’t tried taking him in as deep. And when the urge to gag surfaced, she paused and breathed.
Spike blinked and looked up. “Buffy? What’s…oh—”
She inhaled sharply and swallowed around him, earning a sharp moan and a swift jerk of his hips. He babbled a quick apology as his head collapsed against the mattress again, but his words lost coherency fast.
Confidence building, she slid her lips up his length coyly and grinned. “I take it you like that,” she said, licking at his slit.
“Oh Christ.”
“More?”
“Slayer—”
She sucked him as far in as she could and swallowed around him again. And that was it. Spike barked a quick warning that she didn’t understand until the next second, when he jerked and came, spilling himself deep into her throat. Buffy fought the urge to balk in shock; rather, she did what came naturally and drank down. Spike whimpered helplessly and curled his fingers in her hair.
“Buffy…oh God, Buffy…” His cock slid out of her mouth, and the next thing she knew, he had dragged her up the expanse of his body and was mauling her lips with worshipful, loving kisses. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, his mouth whispering against hers. “So bloody amazing.”
“I—”
“If you say you’re not, I’m gonna rip your arms off.” Buffy paused and pulled back, arching a brow. Spike shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. “Well, no. I like your arms.”
“You like my other stuff, too.”
Spike’s eyes dropped, widening as he appraised her heaving chest. His smile stretched into a leer; he palmed her breasts with near reverence, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “I love your other stuff.” He brushed his lips against hers again, then tugged her down so that she was curled into his side. “You came for me.”
“Well, if you wanna get technical…”
He grinned and barked a laugh. “Dirty!”
Buffy flushed and sank into the mattress. “You’re a bad influence.”
“The baddest.” He ran his fingers down her arm, his hand settling on the waistband of her jeans. “I think you’re overdressed.”
“I told you. This was about you. Not me.”
“I’ve had mine.” He hooked his fingers through one of her belt-loops and dragged her over. His lips found hers again before breaking away to shower her throat with soft, sweet kisses. “Lemme give you yours.”
“Nuh uh. You’re sleepy.”
“Am not.”
“You are so.” Buffy giggled, then blushed at the way his eyes sparkled at her mirth. “You’re all post-coital with the sleepy.”
“Like I’ll bloody let that get in the way.” He dipped his head, wrapping his lips around her nipple. “Buffy, lemme—”
“Go sleepy.”
“No—”
“Spike…” She smiled tenderly and took his face into her hands, bringing his mouth down to hers. “You stayed awake for me all weekend so that you could provide everything or anything I needed, right down to a Kleenex. Please get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
God, the taste of his kisses never ceased to amaze her. The way his tongue stroked hers, the way his lips moved against her lips, the way he whimpered. The way he held nothing back. She tasted everything in his kiss.
“You promise?” Spike panted when they pulled apart. “You’ll be here?”
“I’ll be here.”
“An’ you’ll tell me why you broke the rules?”
“To the plan?” Buffy shrugged and settled against him. “What can I say? Rules are made to be broken.”
Spike looked at her for a minute, then shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “Gotta say, pet,” he murmured, nuzzling her shoulder, closing his eyes. “Whatever spell that you’re li’l witch friend cast on you, she has my approval.”
Buffy smiled weakly. “No spell.”
There were no words to emphasize how important it was that he know that.
“Mhmmm.” He kissed her shoulder. “’Night…sweetheart.”
Of all his pet names for her, that was definitely her favorite. Well, one of her favorites. With Spike, she had many favorites. Like watching him fall asleep. That wasn’t a pet name, but it was still a Spike-related favorite. And it didn’t take long. A few minutes of quiet, and he was deep in slumber again.
He was asleep in her arms. There was still so much to tell him. So much. But she wanted this for him. She just wanted to hold him right now. The rest could wait. He wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she.
Buffy smiled tenderly and brushed her lips against his brow. “I love you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.
Just as his flew open.
To be continued…