He was also keenly aware of the fact she had said nothing since.
He knew she’d heard them. Her eyes had grown wide, a small gasp sounding from her. Granted, Spike knew that wasn’t necessarily unusual for when he entered her, but there had been something else there, more than just her response to pleasure.
And if that hadn’t been enough to let him know, how tense she was beside him now was a definite tip off.
Spike ran his hand down Buffy’s arm, feeling the goose bumps that rose in the wake of his touch. She wasn’t talking—certainly wasn’t telling him she felt the way he did—but she wasn’t running either. He supposed he could take some consolation in that.
Buffy started to relax against him, and Spike relaxed with her. He kissed the top of her head, breathing the scent of her hair in deeply. “Do you have to go?” he asked softly.
Buffy looked up sharply. “Do you want me to?”
“No. I want you here.”
She nuzzled against him, her eyes closing, and Spike took that to mean she was staying the night. “I want to be here.”
She didn’t respond to his declaration of love. She didn’t tell him she loved him, too. But she wanted to be there with him, and that was better than he thought he deserved.
The first thing Buffy saw when she woke up the next morning was Spike looking down at her, a gentle smile on his face. She smiled back, stretching sinuously against him. Her muscles ached, but it was a pleasant sort of ache, reminding her of how she’d gotten like this.
“Good morning, baby,” Spike said, his voice husky, rumbling. Buffy trembled. More than good...and she wanted to show him…
She responded without words, just a mischievous grin as she pushed him over onto his back and slid down his body, her skin rubbing against his, teasingly, making Spike tremble.
Buffy settled between his legs, her hand grasping hold of his long, hard cock and pumping slowly, making Spike take in a sharp hiss of breath. Her tongue darted out, licking at the head just long enough to make Spike desperate for more. When she did the same thing again, Spike whimpered, then looked down at her, imploring with his eyes for her to take him into her mouth.
She winked, then engulfed him. He bellowed a curse and her name, the words running together, making Buffy smile around his shaft. She’d never loved doing this for a man like she loved doing it for him. His scent, his flavor, the way he felt sliding against her tongue—she reveled in it all, in the sensuality of the act.
Pleasing him, giving him something that could make him feel this good, made her feel good, too, made her feel warm inside. With Spike, it didn’t feel like servicing him. It felt like…sharing something with him.
His fingers tangled in her hair, trembling with the effort to keep from tugging too hard, to keep from forcing her down. He didn’t grab hold of her to control her. He touched her like he had to, like he needed to feel her everywhere.
Spike’s gasps turned into choked moans, his thighs tensing, shaking as Buffy dug into them with her nails. She wanted to push him over, wanted to taste all of him, wanted to give him what he so desperately needed. She wanted him to let go, wanted to watch him when he surrendered to release, to experience that here, like this.
Her hand stole from his thigh, slipping beneath his legs, her slim fingers wrapping around his sac, caressing him just the way she knew he liked. She hummed around him, taking him deeper, and felt his balls contract in her hand.
She felt it coming, readied herself, and swallowed him down as Spike released in her mouth, crying her name with such relief that Buffy felt tears at the corner of her eyes. She realized as his semen slid across her tongue, down her throat, that she loved the taste of him. It was a part of him…
He slid from her lips, spent. Buffy crawled back up his body, kissed his gasping mouth until he was kissing her back, cupping her head once again. He pulled back slightly, speaking against her lips. “You make me feel so good, pet. So bloody good.”
“I like making you feel good,” Buffy replied, dipping down, tasting his mouth again.
Spike ran his hands up the back of her thighs to rest on her bottom, cupping the firm globes. “You need me to take care of you, baby?”
Buffy pulled up and shook her head. “No, not now. Maybe later. I kinda have to pee.” Her stomach rumbled and she blushed. “And I guess I’m hungry, too.”
Spike chuckled, then lightly slapped her bottom. “Up with you, then. You go pee and I’ll make us breakfast.”
“You can cook?”
“I can manage eggs.”
“Mmm…eggs are good. I could go for some eggs.” She kissed him quickly before she jumped up off the bed. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Spike sat up, threw her a wink, and Buffy found herself giggling as she turned around and went towards the bathroom.
Buffy walked out back into the bedroom when she was finished in the bathroom, frowning when she realized she wasn’t even sure where her clothes were. In all honesty, she didn’t really care, but the idea of eating naked just seemed…unsanitary.
She opened up Spike’s drawers and found his t-shirts. She pulled one out and slipped it over her head, the black cotton engulfing her small frame.
Spike was in the kitchen, cooking in nothing but his tight, black jeans. When he heard her come in, he tossed a glance over his shoulder, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the sight of her in only his shirt before he turned his attention back to the task at hand. “I hope you like scrambled eggs, because they’re all I can do. I always accidentally pop the center.”
Buffy chuckled as she took a seat at the counter. “Scrambled is fine.”
He pushed a yellow mass of eggs onto a plate, added a slice of toast that had just popped up from the toaster and set it in front of her. “I don’t have jelly, but I have butter. Or an acceptable substitute anyway.”
“I can deal with fake butter,” Buffy replied with a smirk, causing Spike to smile himself as he turned and went towards the fridge.
Buffy moved her eggs around on her plate with a fork, watching Spike as he dug around in the refrigerator. This was so unlike meals at the mansion with Liam, no chef, no fancy dining room. Just a kitchen bar and scrambled eggs.
She liked this better. It was familiar, safe. She didn’t feel out of place sitting here, didn’t feel like she was in over her head. And when Spike joined her with his own breakfast, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, a tender, comfortable gesture that made her feel more than any touch from her husband.
For the first time since the death of her mother, Buffy felt at home.
“I love you, too.”
Spike struggled to swallow the bite of eggs he’d just put in his mouth without choking before he turned and looked at her. “What?”
“Last night, you said you loved me, and I…” Buffy blushed, looking down at the plate and away from his wide blue eyes. “Unless you totally didn’t mean it and it just slipped out during sex, in which case you can ignore what I just said.”
“Ignore it? God, no, sweetheart, I’m not going to ignore it. Hey, look at me.” Spike took her chin in his hand and turned her face towards his. “I meant it. I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Hell, you’re probably the only person I’ve ever loved. I just didn’t think you’d be saying it back. When you ignored it last night, I…” He trailed off, not wanting to say too much, to make himself more vulnerable than he already was.
Buffy reached up and took his hand off her face, but held on to it, stroking his skin with her thumb. “You surprised me last night. I wasn’t expecting it then, and I…” She stopped, sighing as she dropped her hand. “I shouldn’t love you, anymore than you should love me. This is wrong. This whole thing is just wrong.”
“It doesn’t feel wrong.”
“I know.” Buffy turned around on her stool, poking at what was left of her eggs with a fork. “But it’s more than how it feels. What can we ever really have, Spike? What does it even matter if we do love each other? We’re going on borrowed time now. Eventually, this is all going to come crashing down. You have to know that as well as I do. We can’t hide from Liam forever, and we can’t keep sneaking away to share stolen moments. And if we call it love, then the end is only going to be that much more painful.”
“Why does there have to be an end?”
“Because there does!” Buffy turned, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?”
“I have, but dammit, it doesn’t make any sense! Why can’t you just leave Liam?”
“I told you!”
“We can work around that! Fuck, Buffy, I’m not even sure a judge would uphold that agreement you made with him.”
“And what if it was upheld? Spike, I don’t have that kind of money…”
Spike took her hands, her fork clattering to the plate, and held them between the two of them. “Buffy, sweetheart, even if you did have to pay him back, we’d work it out. If you leave him, you won’t be alone. You’ll have me. I’ll make sure you don’t fall again.”
Buffy pulled her hands away and shook her head. “That isn’t enough. I can’t have that hanging over my head, Spike. I just can’t.”
“And living with a man who beats you is better?”
She pushed away from the bar, stumbling a bit as she moved away. “I can’t do this. I need to be getting back. He could call, and if I’m not there…”
Panic rose in Spike’s throat, a fear that if she left now, like this, she wouldn’t come back. “Kitten, no. Please, Buffy…stay. I won’t talk about it anymore, just…”
“I can’t. I need to find my clothes and go.”
“No.” Spike rushed over to her, stopping her with a hand on her arm, then taking hold of her face with both hands, shakily rubbing her cheeks and hair. “Stay. Please. Just a little longer. Don’t leave me like this, baby. Please don’t leave me like this.” He sounded desperate, too needy, but he was and he didn’t care. This was his fault; he’d spoken too soon, tried to rush things. The morning had been good, and he had to get her back to that place, had to make her see that things would be better if she’d just trust herself to him.
She’d see the truth eventually, and then there’d be no end to this. They’d be together, the way it was meant to be, and he’d make her happy. He just had to give her the time she needed to realize that.
“Stay with me. Let me love you, just for a while longer. Please…”
She crumbled, slumped against his chest with a sob before the dam broke and she was crying in his arms. He held her tightly, whispered softly in her hair as he stroked the long, golden strands, and made her a silent promise that he’d soon find a way to make it better.
Yes, I am in fact alive. My writer’s block has been particularly nasty, but I haven’t given up yet!
Please review. Not to sound overly needy, but I could use some encouragement.