Buffy stared at Spike’s closet and sighed. How she had gotten volunteered to pack for the move, she didn’t know. Well, the joke was on him anyway because she was a horrible packer.
She didn’t think she’d ever met a man who had this much clothes before. Hanger after hanger held everything from three-piece suits to leather jackets to silk shirts in every color. He had stacks of sweaters and jeans piled on shelves lining the closet walls. And she didn’t even want to think about all of his shoes.
Even though he seemed to be a clothes addict, she couldn’t help but to be impressed. The guy did dress very well, always stylish in whatever he wore. If he looked so good in jeans and a t-shirt, she wondered what would happen if he dressed up.
Sighing, she started pulling out his clothes to put them in a box next to her. They smelled like him with the faint scent of cigarettes and soap and something so purely Spike that it could never be duplicated.
Their relationship hadn’t progressed much in the few days since he had told her they were together. Mostly they just enjoyed each other’s company, watching movies on television and trying out new restaurants. It was going at a slow pace and even though her body was screaming for more, she was glad that he wasn’t pushing her.
It was all new to her. Back in LA, her father hadn’t let her date. She’d had a few offers, but she turned down every one. There was no way she could have snuck around him since he seemed to always have his finger on her, always knowing where she was and what she was doing.
Coming to live with Spike, things hadn’t made any more sense than they had when she was in the thick of it. If anything, she was more confused.
Just by appearances, Hank Summers hated his daughter. Even when they were out in public, which was seldom to never, he treated her like the red-headed stepchild. There was no warmth shared between them and Buffy couldn’t explain why, then, he always wanted to know where she was.
He shouldn’t give a damn. He shouldn’t always have his eyes trained to her. If he despised her so much, he should have just let her go.
It was a crazy and stupid notion, but since he hadn’t come after her yet, maybe he wouldn’t come at all. Maybe he figured she wasn’t worth the trouble and had given up. She only wished she knew, then she wouldn’t have to always be afraid and she could enjoy her time with Spike.
Pulling down a box from the top shelf, she jumped back when a pile of photographs splashed at her feet. She set the box down and kneeled to gather them up. Who were these people? One she recognized as Spike mother, but the others… She picked up a black and white picture and studied it. The man in it looked just like Spike minus the bleached blond hair. Maybe it was his father?
She felt bad for looking through his things, but it wasn’t as if she were snooping. He had asked her to start packing his stuff so he knew that she was going to find things like pictures and other personal items.
Frowning, she stacked the pictures on the table in the corner next to the red chair, still not happy with herself for prying. If he wanted her to see them, he would show her. As curious as she was, she refused to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. It had happened enough times to her that she knew exactly how he would feel. Betrayed and violated.
The doorbell rang and Buffy jumped a little almost as if she were caught doing something naughty. She padded across the floor to the door and looked out of the peephole.
“Hi, Anya,” she greeted after opening the door.
Anya swept in with a handful of bags. “You and I are having a girl’s night in.”
“Where’s Xander?”
Anya rolled her eyes. “He’s at some stupid bachelor party.”
“Doesn’t that worry you? I mean, if Spike went out to a strip club-”
“He’s not at a strip club,” Anya sighed. “He’s at some guy’s house and apparently because of the groom-to-be being super religious, all they are doing is drinking fruit punch and watching PG-13 rated comedies.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I know, I was disappointed too. I thought, ‘hey, great, he’ll go watch women take off their clothes and then he’ll come home to me for orgasms’. But no, if anything, he’ll come home and be so bored stiff that he’ll just sleep,” Anya replied, setting her bags down on the coffee table.
“So, it wouldn’t bother you if he went and saw strippers?”
God, if she thought Spike did that, it would just kill her.
“No, why would it?” Anya tilted her head in curiosity.
She felt stupid and ignorant. Why was it that she didn’t know these things? “I don’t know. Maybe because he would be looking at other naked women that wouldn’t be you.”
Anya considered that for a minute before saying, “No, I’d be alright with that. As long as he came home to me and didn’t do anything with them other than watch.”
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t think I could.”
“That’s alright. A lot of women would have problems with that too.”
Buffy watched Anya start to pull items from her bags. Makeup, magazines, DVDs, clothes, and…okay, what the hell was that?
“Um, Anya? This might be a dumb question, but what is that and why does it look like a…a, um…”
“Penis?”
Were Spike and Anya separated at birth or something?
“Yeah,” Buffy replied nervously. “Why is it stuck to the table?”
Anya bent down and pulled it off the glass tabletop. “Suction cup. I just got it the other day, isn’t it neat?”
Uh… “Sure, I guess. Why did you bring it?”
Shrugging, Anya regarded the purple silicone piece. “What’s a girl’s night in without a dildo?”
Being that Buffy had never had a girl’s night in or out before, she wasn’t quite sure if it was standard party equipment or not. She would just have to follow Anya’s lead.
“What do we do with it?”
“Stare at it, poke it, slather whipped cream on it and pretend it belongs to Sean Connery.”
“Ew! Anya! He’s old!”
With a huff, Anya plopped down on the couch. “You shouldn't be talking. Spike is like how much older than you? Besides, Sean is a hottie and ruggedly handsome.”
“Okay, I think I can safely say that Spike is nowhere near being as old as Sean Connery and again…eww!”
“You would do him if you met him in person,” Anya accused, pressing the dildo back onto the table.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
Anya put the finishing touches on Buffy’s makeup and stood back to survey her work.
“You look really good made up.”
Buffy turned to look at herself in the mirror. She did look good! Anya was like a pro or something. Her skin glowed golden and a pink flush accentuated her cheeks. A smoky gray outlined her eyes which brought out their green color hidden in hazel depths and her lashes curled up, thick and voluminous. Anya had plucked her eyebrows, which had been kind of bushy and crooked before, but were now pronounced arches.
“Wow! I don’t even look like me anymore,” Buffy said in awe.
“I’m guessing your dad didn’t let you have makeup.”
Buffy shook her head. “I never asked. But he probably would have said no anyway.”
“You should leave it on until Spike gets home. Might spark a little physical activity,” Anya told her, shoving the makeup into the little zipper bag.
The blush mixed with her embarrassment and made her face turn red. “Anya! He is not going to jump me just because I have a little makeup on.”
“You have a lot to learn about men if you think he won’t.”
They moved into the living room and Anya popped in a romantic comedy, and then started going through the bags again.
Buffy eyed Sean the Dildo which seemed to be glaring at her. After twenty minutes of coaxing from Anya, Buffy could now say the word out loud. Not that it would come up in normal conversation, but at least she could say it to Anya without blushing.
“Do you use them?”
Anya looked up at her then to Sean. “Yeah, but not that one ‘cause it would be really gross to let you play with it after I had.”
“Yuck! Anya, that is disgusting!”
Her brows furrowed. “What? That I use them?”
“No, that you- nevermind.”
“Oh, well, you can have this one. I’ve got many at home.”
“What am I going to do with it?” Buffy asked, her eyes wide.
Anya shrugged. “I don’t know. Have Spike show you how to use it.”
Oh. My. God! Did she just tell me to have- No!
“I couldn’t do that!”
“Sure you could. Just ask. He’ll do it for you,” Anya told her nonchalantly.
Well, maybe Anya had no problems with asking her husband to use it on her, but Buffy could not say the same. She and Spike didn’t even talk about doing the other stuff let alone bringing in props. Was Anya out of her mind or did she just fail to realize that Buffy had little to no experience with this whole sex thing?
“I’ve never…you know…with a guy, Anya.”
“I know.”
She knew. She knew? Then why was she acting like it would be so easy for Buffy to ask such a thing?
“You should just get over your shyness and ask Spike to teach you. I think you’ll find him a more than adequate teacher,” Anya said, popping a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“What does that mean?
Anya’s eyes went wide and she turned her body to face Buffy’s. “Nothing. Nothing. Just that he has enough experience to know what he’s doing.”
Somehow, Buffy was finding it hard to believe her. It wasn’t that Anya lied a lot, but the way she had said it made Buffy think there was more to the story than she was willing to tell.
“I know he has been with women before me, Anya.” Hoping that would coax Anya into saying more, Buffy waited.
“This is that thing Xander is always telling me not to do. It’s not my place to tell you about Spike’s love life,” Anya replied.
“You brought it up!”
Wait a minute, Buffy. Isn’t this the exact same thing as looking through his things? It’s not your business. If he wants to tell you, he will, she told herself, trying to calm down.
“I’m sorry, Anya,” Buffy said, feeling lousy for yelling at her only girl friend for something so ridiculous.
Anya was quiet for a while, watching the movie instead of answering her. “If it helps, I think he really does care for you. That’s not something that happens everyday for him,” Anya finally responded after several minutes.
It did help a little. From her observations and what he had told her, Spike didn’t seem to have many friends. Anya and Xander knew Spike pretty well since they had lived across from each other for four years and Spike had referred to them on a few occasions that they were his friends. That’s why when Anya said things like that, Buffy genuinely believed her.
She could hear footsteps coming up the stairs and Buffy figured it was either Spike or Xander. Either way, their little girl’s night in had come to an end.
There was a knock at the door. It was Xander. And Anya didn’t stay more than a few more minutes while she gathered up her things, much to Buffy’s disappointment.
“So, you can keep the makeup and stuff. We should do this again, right?” Anya asked as Buffy walked her to the door.
“Yeah.”
Anya smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re my favorite girl, Buffy.”
With a laugh, Buffy bid her farewell and closed the door behind her.
It was one-thirty when Spike finally dragged himself into the apartment. Saturdays were always rough with the constant stream of patrons and never-ending drink orders.
He smelled like he had just bathed in alcohol for eight hours, which is pretty much what he had done. Bartending was a dirty job, but it paid well if you knew what you were doing. And Spike was pretty good at it.
The lights in the living room were on and he immediately went searching for Buffy. He found her in the bedroom, packing away.
“Hey, luv,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb.
She jumped a little at his voice and she turned to face him.
Holy fuck! What had she done to herself? Hello, meow, sex kitten is on the prowl! And boy, did he like it.
“You scared the crap out of me, Spike,” she replied, breathing hard.
“What can I say? I’m the big bad, baby.”
She gave him a roll of her eyes and leaned over to fold the box flaps in.
God, she was killing him! “So, what’s with the makeup?”
Her expression turned worried and she bit her lip, effectively eating off some of the cotton candy-colored lipstick that had made her look sugary sweet. “I told Anya you wouldn’t like it.”
Ah, so Anya had come over, that explained it.
“I never said I didn’t like it, kitten. Just wondered why you went all glittered up,” he replied, walking into the room and stopping in front of her.
“So, you do like it?”
His hand came up and brushed against her soft cheek. “Oh, fuck, yeah. You look good enough t’ eat.”
She blushed at that and Spike stared at her in wonder. He would never get over how innocent she was. The women he’d been with before had been used and jaded, but this girl- no, woman that stood before him was a fresh combination of pureness and intelligence. He was a lucky man and if he were entirely honest, he knew he didn’t deserve her.
“Can I taste you?” He asked in a low tone and Spike watched as a shiver ran through her body.
“Yes,” she replied in a whispered hush, looking up at him shyly.
He brought his mouth down to rub against hers, but he didn’t linger, instead choosing a path to her ear and down her slender neck. His tongue tasted the saltiness of her skin and he held back a groan, not wanting to hear anything but the sound of her shallow pants.
With one hand, he slid under her t-shirt and felt the hot skin of her belly burning him. He let his tongue lick down to her shoulder and then traced her collarbone, leaving her skin wet from his kisses. His fingertips brushed the underside of her breast that he was shocked to find naked without the barrier of a bra.
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to settle for just a kiss, he lifted her up into his arms and walked towards the bed. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and kneeled down in front of her, taking her small hands into his.
“If you want me t’ stop, just tell me, yeah?”
“Okay,” she said in response.
With a deep breath, he pulled his gaze away from her face and let it slowly travel downward to the hem of her shirt. He fingered the bottom for a minute before lifting it up and pulling it off of her body.
She gasped and covered herself with her hands.
“Buffy, do you want me t’ stop? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he told her, willing his attention back to thinking straight.
Shaking her head, she looked down to her lap when she said, “I don’t want you to stop.”
He closed his eyes to get a barring on his raging emotions. Bloody hell, he wanted her, but this he would have to take slow.
His hands went up to cover hers and he gently pulled her arms away, revealing her to him. She was perfect. Not too small, not too large, just high and full with roundness. Her skin was golden all over, he noted as he just stared at her, taking in her beauty.
“Why are you staring at me? Do they look wrong?”
“No, baby, they are perfect. Just like you,” he reassured her.
Leaning forward, he let his tongue touch her stomach and he felt a deep-seated male pride surge at her little mewl. He tongued her bellybutton, but quickly stopped when she began to giggle. There was time for fun later, right now, there wasn’t anything more serious than the way he was going to make her feel.
He let his hands slide up her sides, his thumbs positioned next to her little pink nipples. A slow lick between her breasts quieted her laughter and he moved a hand to cup her breast, squeezing it and feeling its weight. He blew warm air against the nipple and she arched her back involuntarily.
“Bet you taste like raspberries and cream. Wanna find out,” he breathed into her skin before letting his lips close over her pert nub.
Her hips jerked in response and he leaned her backwards onto the mattress, wanting to feel her under him. His body fell between her thighs, her heat soaking through their clothes to burn him. He continued to suckle her, letting his tongue flick over the nipple every now and then. With his free hand, he grabbed onto her other breast and pinched her lightly.
“Oh!” She exclaimed at the sensation.
Moving his hips, he let himself grind against her center and she moaned.
“Mmm, kitten. Can feel you. So hot and wet for me. Wanna make you come so bad,” he said thickly.
“Please…” She whimpered, lifting her hips to crash against his.
Fuck! Did she know what she was asking for? No, no, he could do this. He could restrain himself and give her pleasure. This time would be all for her.
He trailed a hand down to rest in the button on her jeans and he popped it open, sliding the zipper down. A startled gasp escaped her lips and he stalled his movements.
“Don’t worry. Gonna make you feel so good, luv. So fuckin’ good.”
When she made no further protests, he let his hand slip into her pants and he cupped her cotton-covered pussy. She writhed against him as he flexed his hand around her and it wasn’t long before he was diving under the barrier of her panties, feeling her wet and soft center.
“Do you remember when I did this the other morning, baby? How good it made you feel? God, you are so ready for me.” His lips found her nipple again as he glided his fingers over her.
“Spike…” Her hands grabbed onto his hair, making Spike’s eyes roll back into his head.
His middle finger dipped into her as his thumb rubbed her clit in quick circles. Soddin’ hell, she was tight. The internal muscles of her pussy squeezing his finger as he moved it in and out, a shallow penetration, but enough to let her feel him.
Her body was becoming more and more tense and he knew instinctively that she was going to come soon. When she was almost over the edge, he bit down on her nipple and she screamed in release.
A slick heat covered his hand and suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up to his mouth and sucking on two fingers. Sweet and tart at the same time, it was bloody delicious.
Buffy was breathing hard as he looked down at her. “You okay, sweets?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she replied slowly, nodding her head.
He let out a low chuckle. “Good. Do you mind if I hop into the shower, luv? I smell like a bloody brewery.”
“No,” she giggled. “Go ahead.”
He kissed her hard, grinding himself against her, before getting up and sauntering off to the bathroom.
Okay, it was true, he did smell horrible, but the real reason he was running off was to take care of himself with a good wank in the shower. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to stay with her and cuddle-
“Hold up, mate. Did you just think about cuddling?” He asked himself as he stared into the mirror. “Bloody git.”
The urge to cuddle a woman post-coital had never wandered into his mind, ever. Well, not until now, at least. But he figured Buffy was different. She was his girlfriend and not just some tart he’d picked up on the way home. She deserved to be cuddled and loved.
Loved? Did that just pop into his mind as well? Guess the sexual tension had really done a number on him. Made him delirious. It was the only explanation for it.