Right now, I’m going to have to say that this is very much the end. Unless my muse decides to gift me with an interesting idea for a sequel, I think I’ve milked this plotline as much as I can. I’m very much invested in other story ideas right now (about seven of them…*kicks stupid muse*). It’s going to be a while before I add any of my projects to the archives, though. While my muse is in hyperdrive, it’s taken a few brutal beatings recently and I want to get a good amount of material written before I start posting.
The good news? I’m more than halfway through my next fic. *bounce* It’s gonna be rather short, but hey, at least I’m halfway through it.
In the meantime, I invite anyone who wants notification of when I have a new story out, or just chapter updates, to join my mailing list.
Again, thank you guys so, so much for your enthusiasm and your support. You’ve completely blown me away. I never expected the response to this story to be so explosive. Thank you SO MUCH.
And a huge thanks to Megan and Meredith for all your help with this story. You guys are invaluable. *snuggles* Thank you!
It was amazing what a few weeks could do. Standing in front of the mirror, naked, Buffy frowned and tilted her head. Nothing had changed. Every mark that should mar her body was all with the marring. There was a thin hair of a scar just over her belly—the last of her birthday-bash wounds. A rather pronounced series of hickeys ran across her neck, and of course, there was the claim mark on her inner thigh. Nothing had changed. No, nothing had changed at all.
But something was different. Something was very different, and she couldn’t tell what.
And really, what was there to go off of? Her stomach was as flat as ever—flatter, even, for all the extra slayage workouts she’d been getting. Plus, her daily regimen now included hours of hot monkey loving with her gorgeous, albeit slightly morally ambiguous vampire of a mate. So, yes. Other than being slightly thinner and having a healthy lots-of-sex glow warming her skin, there was nothing that should ostensibly be different.
Maybe it was the lighting. The last time she’d checked herself out, she’d done so right before hopping in the shower. Right now, she was in mid-preparation for her patrol-date and subsequent Bronzing—only she hadn’t gotten further than the removal of her school garb. Her reflection had caught her eye, and whether by curiosity or something much naughtier, she’d felt compelled to give herself the once-over again. And something was different.
The lighting? No. This wasn’t a cosmetic thing. It wasn’t like she was checking out her pores or looking for unsightly blemishes. Hell, she had Cordelia for that. No, something was different. Something was very different.
Then again, she wasn’t feeling as lost and confused as she had the last time she’d surveyed herself in the mirror. Perhaps that was it. She wasn’t lost anymore. Spike kept her thoroughly and wonderfully found. And she wasn’t confused. Big no to confused. If anything, Buffy hadn’t felt so certain about anything in all her life.
She frowned and worried a lip between her teeth, lifting her breasts to further her inspection. No, nothing different there. No bigger. No smaller. The only thing that had changed in her boobs was the amount of attention they received now. Spike loved playing with her nipples, almost as much as he loved sucking on her claim mark. He made a nightly thing of it—trying to see how much she could take before she begged him stop. In which case, her begging only caused his efforts to redouble.
Then again, Buffy thought with a smirk, fair was fair. She’d definitely had loads of fun letting him know firsthand how good it felt to have the claim mark played with. She loved hearing him babble and melt and moan helplessly under her caress. It made her feel womanly. It made her feel…
Buffy blinked and met her reflection’s eyes. That was it. That was the change. Of course that was it.
Being with Spike—being his mate and his lover and his slayer and, well, his—it made her feel like a woman. Not a girl. Not an organic weapon against evil. She was female—through and through. And she could be the woman with him and the Slayer when the world needed saving. She could be both. Spike had shown her both.
Spike had shown her so much.
Buffy’s eyes raked down her reflection. She was astonished at what a few simple weeks could do. How she could have ever looked at herself in the mirror and not know her body as well as she did now. Her skin no longer felt borrowed. The tingly nerves that buzzed whenever she was aroused were no longer foreign. Her body no longer felt like a stranger’s. No, Spike had taught her to know her body well. He’d made it hers—he’d given her form as a woman rather than simply a slayer.
She remembered, a lifetime ago, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and wondering what it was that had driven a drunken Spike to see her as anything but the Slayer. How he could have, inebriated as he was, found her remotely desirable. And though her confidence in her sexuality was on the rise, her stomach still coiled in uncertainty from time to time. She wondered how he could see her as anything other than plain. How he could see her at all.
When she spoke of her fears, Spike would stare at her in wonder. “I can’t understand how you don’ know how gorgeous you are,” he’d whispered the night before, cupping her breasts with near reverence. “I could spend hours jus’ looking at you. Taking you in.” He’d pressed his lips to her flat stomach, his mouth wandering southward slowly until he was worshipping his claim mark, his fingers slipping inside her slick pussy. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
Buffy trembled and sighed, her eyes falling to the claim mark. It was so small. So lovely. How was it that something so small could give her the whole world? She had absolutely no idea. She didn’t know how a bite could become something precious just by whispering a word. She didn’t know.
She didn’t know how such a small mark could mean so much. It just did.
She licked her lips, spreading her legs and gently running her fingers over the bite. Her insides rushed with lust and her legs wobbled. “Oh, God,” she whimpered, her head rolling back. “Spike…”
His fingers materialized from nowhere, sliding down her arms and curling around her wrists, pulling her gently until her back was pressed against a strong, familiar chest. “Starting without me, pet? That’s cheating.”
Buffy gasped, her knees buckling. She would have fallen on her butt had Spike not held her upright. Damn. And she thought she was past this. “Oh…”
“Not that I don’ appreciate the free show, luv, but I was hopin’ you’d let me have the honor of stroking you tonight.”
She moaned in protest, her head collapsing wearily against his shoulder. “The floor just never opens and swallows you when you want it to.”
Spike chuckled, his hands slowly moving up her torso until he was palming her breasts. She watched the play in the mirror. Watched her skin shiver under the presence of an unseen touch. She watched her reflection gasp and arch, invisible lips skating up and down her throat, Spike’s left hand dropping between her legs to cup her pussy.
“This…is just…weird,” she ground out.
“Weird?”
She waved at the mirror. “Me…with the…no you.”
“We need one of those cameras, pet. Those instant-photo gizmos of modern novelty?” He chuckled into her skin, spreading her pussy lips apart and dipping his middle and index fingers inside her warmth. “We could plaster the walls with gorgeous, naughty pictures of you…with me.”
“Unh…”
“An’ call it what you want, Slayer,” Spike continued, nudging her head with his until her gaze was fixed on the mirror again. “I find this…”
She rolled her eyes and thrust her ass back against his erection. “I know just how you find it.”
“My dirty li’l minx knows me so well.”
“You’re a perv. What’s to know?”
He chuckled again, his fingers slowly slipping out of her wet passage. “That standin’ starkers in your room when your very shaggable honey’s on his way over isn’t exactly the best game plan if you’re lookin’ to be on time to stake us some baddies t’night.” He pinched her clit and grinned when she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. Then he was urging her to face him, taking her face in his hands and claiming her mouth in an eager, ardent kiss. And Buffy melted on the spot. He kissed her like the world was ending—always. He kissed her, and the ground moved.
“Spike…”
“Your mum’s out, isn’t she?” he asked heatedly between kisses, helping her shove his duster off his shoulders before turning his hands to his belt as she tugged his t-shirt over his head.
Unfortunately, it was rather difficult to focus on anything aside from his wicked mouth, let alone try and do anything with hers that didn’t involve sucking on his tongue. “I…uhhh…”
“Wanna know how quiet we have to be,” he explained in a soft growl, kicking off his boots. “Wanna know if I’m gonna have to wait till later to hear you scream for me.”
“She’s out.”
An eager grin tickled his lips. “Good.”
“We should…really…go…” Buffy shoved him onto her bed, dropping to her knees in front of him to tug his jeans down his legs. Her eyes flashed when his cock bobbed free, and before she could stop herself, she had her lips wrapped around his silky head, her nails lightly scratching at the proud claim mark on his thigh.
“Oh fucking hell!” Spike roared and vamped, fingers threading through her hair to hold her to him as he drove himself deeper down her throat. “Oh bleeding…that’s it, baby. God, such a hot li’l mouth.”
Buffy grinned coyly and slowly slid her lips off him. She dutifully ignored his whimper of protest, her hand curling around his length as her mouth turned to the bite mark. “I better call someone,” she murmured, her tongue lapping at his sensitive flesh, her grin widening with every pleasure-tinged gasp that tore through his throat. “Let them know to not send a search party.”
“Buffy…” He fisted her hair and arched her neck back until she locked gazes with his demon. And God, even then, even with bumpies and fangs, he could not hide from her. She saw love behind the burning yellow in his eyes. She saw tenderness. She saw poetry. She saw a man—her man—entwined with the monster that loved her. And her heart swelled.
“Get up here,” he murmured, his tongue running down one of his fangs.
“You don’t want me to play?” she asked, batting her eyes innocently, lowering her head to sample the bite mark again. The tortured moan that hissed through his teeth burned her alive. “I thought you liked it when I played.”
“When exactly did you become a sodding dominatrix?”
She arched a brow. “Is that what I am? I thought I had to have whips or chains or something. And ewww!”
Spike perked a brow, his hands curling under her shoulders to haul her up the length of his body, reclining until his back was pressed against the mattress and she was sprawled on top of him. “You’re tellin’ me you don’ fancy the idea a little?” he asked, gently easing her up. “Me, chained to the bed? Lettin’ you have your wicked way with me? It’d be bloody appropriate, I think.”
“Letting me have my wicked way with you?” she echoed, arching a brow. “If you’re chained to the bed, you’ll be doing very little letting.” Buffy paused, inching her way up his body at the gentle prodding of his hands. “What are you—”
“Come here, baby.” And then she saw his intent, and her skin flushed wildly. He wanted her to straddle his face. Oh God, he wanted her—that part of her—there. There was no way she wasn’t going to Hell for this. “Kitty wants some cream.”
“You are so nasty.” The words lacked bite—or anything, really. Buffy worried a lip between her teeth, her hands reaching for the linen as Spike’s talented tongue parted her pussy lips and gave her a good lick. “Oh God.”
He chuckled. And though it occurred to her that she should slap him several times for finding her so amusing in a not-so-flattering way, she really didn’t care why he was laughing as long as the vibrations felt like that. He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked her into his mouth, plunging two fingers inside her channel as his right hand curled around her hip to lazily stroke the claim mark.
This was not fair. It was not fair that he could manipulate her body so smoothly.
“God, I love your taste,” he whispered. Her blush deepened and she looked down, her eyes catching his. And he watched her so intently that she forgot what he was doing until the length of his fang grazed her clit. Her body jolted and she jerked with a compulsive rush of ecstasy and fear. He wouldn’t hurt her, of course. He would never hurt her. But knowing that he could—now, especially—so easily, made the entire experience that more illicit. More…
“Delicious,” he whispered, and she smiled, lovingly running her fingers over his brow ridges.
Spike’s eyes fluttered shut and he trembled hard. Then, drawing in a deep breath, he slowly eased her down his body again, until his hard cock was caressing her backside. He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, then tugged her down for a soft kiss. She moaned, teasing his fangs with her tongue, pricking herself intentionally so that her blood spilled down his throat. And when he whimpered and growled into her, every nerve in her body positively hummed.
“Tell me,” he whispered against her lips as she positioned him at her opening. “Tell me you love me, Buffy. Like this.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his face, his amber eyes swallowing her whole. “Tell me you love me.”
God, he was going to make her cry again. Buffy inhaled sharply and sank onto his cock, fusing their bodies together in bliss. “I love you,” she gasped. “I love you. It…it happened so slowly.” She sucked in another deep breath, rose and fell. The feel of his cock sliding inside her was another sensation that would never lose its novelty. Every time felt like the first—only not, because every time, she fell more and more into him. She became more a part of him. And in that, the world of firsts was opened to a world of forevers. Forever with him would never be enough. “But I still don’t…I don’t remember not loving you, Spike. I know there was a time…that I…” She threw her head back and sighed, rotating her hips and finding a slow, cadenced rhythm. “I know it happened…but I…I don’t…remember it.”
His hand cupped her cheek, persuading her eyes open. “Really?” he asked softly.
Buffy blinked hard, but she couldn’t stop her tears. Stupid vampire. What was the deal with making her cry out of happiness, of all things? She so wasn’t used to this. “Really,” she murmured, leaning forward until her breasts were pressed intimately against his chest, moaning as his cock surged deeper within her, and caressed his mouth with hers. “Really, really.”
“You amaze me,” Spike murmured, his back arching off the bed, his hands clutching at her thighs. “You absolutely amaze me. Oh, Christ. Buffy. Jus’ like that.” He whimpered, his fangs receding as the man chased the demon away. It was, perhaps, one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. Watching his monster helplessly melt away at her touch.
She smiled softly, licking at his throat, rotating her hips. “I try,” she replied, sitting up again, pressing her palms to his chest as she began to ride him in earnest. “Ohhh…Spike…”
“God, you’re beautiful.” Spike’s eyes flickered, his fingers sliding up her sides. “Love watching you. Love watching those lovely li’l titties of yours bounce for me. Love watching your quim swallow me. Oh God, yeh, that’s gorgeous, that is.”
Buffy whimpered and tossed her head back, bouncing on his cock. The air around her filled with the smacks of their flesh colliding, the headboard rocking against the wall each time he drove back into her. “Spike…”
He tugged her down for another burning kiss, his other hand sliding between them. “Bloody well undo me,” he purred, giving her clit a good tap before flipping her over. He seized her wrists and pinned them to the mattress beside her head, a predatory growl tumbling through his throat. “Oh, yes. That’s it. God, Buffy…you feel so good. Squeezing me. Squeeze me jus’ like that.”
She flushed and clenched her slayer muscles, her arms breaking free of his hold and wrapping determinedly around his neck. “You, too.”
He pressed his lips to her shoulder, shuddering. “Tell me?”
“I love you.”
“Tell me what I do to you.” He stretched his hands under her shoulders, grasping her tightly as the pace of his thrusts increased. “Tell me. Tell me.”
Buffy blinked rapidly, her heart jumping into her throat. She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know how to be the talker during sex. She didn’t know how to vocalize what he did to her—how wonderful he felt inside her. Anything she pieced together sounded cheesy and clichéd to her soap-opera trained ears. But if Spike wanted to know what he did to her—if he needed her to say it—she would try. After everything he’d done for her, it was the least she could do. “You feel…” she moaned and sighed again. “I love the way…you feel.”
“Mmm.” He brushed his lips against her collarbone, then at the swell of her breast. “Do you?”
“Y-yes.”
He purred his encouragement, his thrusts exploding into a frenzy. He pounded her into the mattress, panting against her breast as his left hand broke away from her shoulder to slide between their thrusting bodies again. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and clutched at him. And when his fingers reached the place where they were joined them, she couldn’t hold back her pleasured cry. All coherency vanished in a blink. She tried blindly to form words—she blurted out every feeling her nerves touched. She wanted so bad to give him what he wanted. What he needed.
“Spike—”
He was massaging her clit speedily, his balls slapping her ass with every drive. “You’re so warm,” he panted. “So bleeding hot. My girl. My girl an’ her hot, fiery li’l quim. Squeeze me like that. Squeeze me so…oh yeah.”
“Uhhh, Spike—”
“I love you.” He pressed his lips to her shoulder, his bumpies bursting forward again. He nudged her cheek with his ridges, his fangs gliding across her jugular. “I love you, Buffy.”
“Love you.”
He pinched her clit and sliced his fangs into her golden skin, and she exploded around him. She exploded and the room fell away. The ceiling blinked out and she was blanketed with stars. His name tore off her lips, her body trembling hard, her nails digging into his biceps. And that was it. Spike growled as he spilled himself inside her, his tongue lapping sweetly at her skin as the rumble lulled into a low purr.
He buried his head in the crook of her neck and whimpered. “Mine. You’re mine, Buffy. All mine.”
She shivered and nipped at his earlobe. “I am.”
He sighed contentedly, licking at her skin. “An’ I’m yours. Forever an’ ever, luv. I mean it.”
He did. She heard it. She felt it. They had forever in front of them. An eternity in his arms. Forever.
Though something told her that forever wouldn’t be long enough. Forever could never be long enough.
It was, however, a very good start.