Things had certainly changed between them in the past week. Everything Spike had worried might happen hadn't and he was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. The tension was gone. The sadness and anger had disappeared along with it and for the first time since his mother had died, he felt a calmness so serene that it threatened to wash away everything that had kept him on edge before.
And that scared him more than he cared to admit.
"You're makin' a bloody mess, luv," he said with a chuckle.
The whole kitchen was doused in flour and smelled like vanilla and so was Buffy. She had gotten it in her head that she needed to bake cookies at eight o'clock this morning and could not be dissuaded no matter how hard Spike had tried to distract her. If she were anyone else, he'd have been worried that he was losing his touch, but he'd gotten to know his little kitten well and could easily chalk it up to utter stubbornness.
"Makes the cookies taste better," she replied, her feet sliding a bit in the white power that had fallen onto the floor.
"I'm not helpin' you clean it up."
Her lower lip poked out into a delicious pout and his cock twitched in response. The girl was going to make him spontaneously combust if she kept that up.
"But Spike..." She whined.
"I might be persuaded t' help if I get somethin' in return," he told her with a leer.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Is that all you think about?"
"When I'm around you, baby? Absolutely."
She rolled the last dough ball and set it on the cookie sheet before moving the pan to the oven. Her hands slapped together to get rid of the extra stickiness and she gave him a triumphant smile. "Last batch," she declared. "Do you think Anya and Xander might want some?"
"I think if it's edible, Xander would probably be more than happy t' take it off your hands." Spike took a drink from his mug and winced as the cool coffee hit his tongue.
Buffy plopped into a chair adjacent from him and brought her knees up to her chest. "Do you think they'll know?"
"Well, you're little cookie session was pretty spur o' the moment. Probably not."
Buffy glanced up at him with a funny expression on her face. If he had to take a guess, he'd say it was a what-language-are-you-speaking look. "Huh?"
"Uh, I'm guessin' we're not on the same page here. What did you mean?"
She sighed and played with a spoon on the table. "Do you think Anya and Xander will know that we...you know...?"
Setting his mug down, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Would it bother you if they did?"
"No."
"Then why does it matter if they know or not?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. I don't want people to look at me funny."
"That's not gonna happen, luv."
"When I was in school, they used to talk bad about the girls who were..." She leaned in close as if to whisper a secret. "You know, slutty."
"Luv," he began as he grasped her hand in his, stroking the smooth, creamy skin with his thumb. "You're not some sort o' trollop, so I don't think you have anythin' t' worry about. Besides, you won't find anyone snickerin' at you even if they did know what you an' I have done behind closed doors. An' if they did, they'd have t' deal with me."
With a shy smile, she said, "Really?"
Oh, if she only knew. Of course, on second thought, maybe it was best that she didn't know just what lengths he would go to protect her. She didn't respond well to his anger even if he had the best of intentions.
"Really."
She squealed before leaping out of her chair and into his lap. As he struggled to keep her from falling, she planted wet, sloppy kisses all over his face, her hands grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and holding him to her. She wiggled and squirmed and made it impossible for him not to react, but she didn't seem to mind much. The frantic movements turned into a slow grind against his growing hardness and Spike moaned in response.
"Do you have any bloody idea what you do t' me, kitten?" He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers slipping through her shimmering gold locks, and devoured her lips in a kiss. She tasted sweet, like sugar and spice, as her tongue dueled with his. Their lips slid and moved against each other, setting him ablaze and pushing him towards solidifying his need.
His arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her up onto the table in front of him. A loud clatter distracted him momentarily until he realized that it had just been his half-empty coffee mug falling to the floor.
"Spike," she said breathlessly, eyes wide and full of desire.
There wasn't a sweeter sound in the universe than her moaning his name that way. It was an aria of passion; a symphony that only he knew by heart. His heart soared at the very idea of it, that she sang for him and no one else.
And there would be no one else. Not ever. Buffy was his.
The growl that rumbled in his throat was nothing less than possessive and by the way she gasped, Spike could tell she knew exactly what it meant too. He waited for her to push him away, but she never did. Instead, she scooted back slightly on the tabletop and brought her feet up to rest on the edge; an invitation in her gaze.
He wasted no time in accepting and he pushed forward until the hard line of the table dug into his thighs, bringing his body between her legs but not close enough to feel her heat. Reaching up, he peeled back the front of her tank top, her pert breasts spilling out into his hands. He pulled her up by one arm and immediately latched onto one of her hard, pink nipples.
"Oh!" She exclaimed as he bit down lightly, her hips jerking against the table and bumping into his swollen, denim-covered cock.
The sudden burst of pleasure that the friction caused sent him past the point of no return and he released her breast, pushing her back against the table. He roughly grasped the waistband of her tiny shorts and yanked up until the button popped off. Ripping the zipper open, he pulled off the garment and threw it on the floor, leaving her in pale yellow panties with a white lace trim.
"Fuck, baby! Look at you. Hot. Wet. Is it for me?" He ran his fingers over the soaked cotton crotch before grinding the heel of his hand against the needy button of her clit. "Mmm, yeah. Can feel you. You want it, huh, luv? You want me, dontcha?"
Her back arched sharply. "Please..."
"Please, what, baby?" He asked in a rasp as he dipped his finger into her through the barrier of her panties.
She was breathing in short pants now, her chest rising and falling erratically. "I want... I want... Please, Spike!"
He leaned in, inhaling her scent, her arousal and blew hot air against her, making her cry out. "Want what, Buffy? Gotta tell me. I wanna hear you tell me."
"Ugnh, please! I want... I want you to...taste me!"
Spike smirked. Oh, he was more than happy to oblige. He licked her cloth-covered mound from top to bottom with a moan of satisfaction then rubbed the saturated fabric against her, loving the twitch of her body as she mewled.
There was something incredibly naughty about playing with her like this, making her want, making her squirm underneath his touch. He felt like such a bad man as he watched her writhe on the table in her pretty panties, completely wanton and unashamed. The sounds that she made drove him on, letting him know just how much she enjoyed what he was doing to her.
Reaching back, he pulled the chair to him and sat down, his eyes level with her heated center. This was definitely a vantage point he could get used to.
He moved in, poking his tongue out and running it along the inside of her golden thigh. "I'm gonna eat you up, kitten. Is that what you want? You wanna feel my tongue on you? In you? Huh, baby?" His thumb rubbed her clit in hard circles as he left open-mouthed kisses along the edge of her underwear. "Wanna hear you scream my name when I lick your sweet quim. Will you?"
"Yes! Yes, God, please!" She nodded her head wildly, her hands curling into tiny fists.
With a rumble, he grasped her hips with his large hands and slid her down the slick surface of the table so that her body was flush with the edge and positioned her legs over his shoulders. He buried his face between her thighs and shook his head, his nose bumping against hardened nub of her arousal.
"Spike! Oh my God! What are you doing?"
He chuckled. "Jus' gettin' started, luv. Jus' gettin' started."
After another long lick right up the center of her, he sucked the cotton into his mouth and tugged at it with his teeth, stretching the soaked fabric until it had some give to it. Pushing the strip aside, he took a minute to appreciate the bloom of soft, pink folds that glistened from her fluids and his arduous kisses. She was beautiful there, all delicate and velvety, the color of an innocent blush. And her smell...
He brushed a kiss against her, his tongue poking out only slightly to take a sample. The flavor was exquisite, like ripe raspberries with their tart, honeyed juices, like ambrosia. He could die with her taste on his tongue.
It was too much for him and he gave into his impulses, dipping his tongue into her hot entrance while maneuvering his fingers upward to tease her clit. Buffy shouted in pleasure, her hips moving against his mouth and tongue and fingers in an effort to increase the wonderful sensations that he was creating.
"That's it, baby," he urged, taking a needed breath before diving back into her sopping pussy.
"Oh, Spike..."
Her clit was throbbing against his fingers and he abandoned her tight channel to suck the greedy bundle of nerves into his mouth. His hand slid down to pick up the slack, his thumb slipping effortlessly into her before retreating, beginning a timeless rhythm.
"Spike." Her voice was becoming more insistent and Spike grinned against her. Oh, yeah, the girl wanted it. Wanted it bad.
He felt a hand on his head and he immediately picked up the pace, lashing his tongue over her and slamming his finger into her.
"Ugh, oh God! Spike!"
That's it! Come for me!
"Spike! Spike! I think...God...Spike...I think the...oh God...the cookies are burning!"
His head shot up. "Wha?"
Buffy scrambled off the table and ran towards the oven, leaving Spike disoriented and ready to burst. When he finally realized what was going on, it was too late.
"Buffy, don't touch the-"
She howled in pain as the baking sheet clattered back on the oven rack. Spike jumped up and pulled her away from the searing hot metal and moved her over to the sink. He jerked the cold water on and placed her hand under it.
"Ow," she said miserably. Flexing her fingers under the water, she glanced up at him. "I'm sorry, Spike."
He turned his blue eyes to her sad face. "For what, luv?"
Her shrug suggested indifference, but what it really said was that she was embarrassed. "Ruining it."
He didn't have to ask her what 'it' meant. Truthfully, the moment he realized she had been hurt all thoughts of what they had been doing flew right out the window. "You didn't ruin anythin'. Scared the shit outta me, yeah, but ruin? Not a chance."
It was then that he realized her top was still down and he flushed furiously. Sex must have been the last thing on his mind or he would have seen it moments earlier. Reaching down, he gently pulled the stretchy baby blue fabric up and adjusted the straps on her shoulders.
She giggled nervously. "Lucky I didn't burn those, huh?"
With a short smile, he could only nod in response. God, she had scared him! At this point, he was still trying to get his heart to slow down and he really didn't have it in him to joke about the incident, not with the fear trickling through his veins, not while he was trying desperately to keep his hands from shaking.
"Come on, luv. Why don't you go sit down an' I'll go get you some ice." He led her over to the kitchen table and sat her down in one of the chairs.
He walked to the freezer and pulled out an ice tray, tossing it on to counter as he went in search of the kitchen towels. The kitchen was like a foreign country to him. Sure, he knew where some things were. The coffee, the dishes and silverware, and just about any food item, but appliances? Sponges and towels? Not a bloody clue.
So, he started rummaging through drawers and cupboards and that’s when he found...
"Uh, Buffy?"
"Hmmm?" came her absent-minded reply.
"What the bleedin' hell is this?"
Buffy slowly turned her head, wincing when she realized what Spike was holding in his hand.
"Um...Sean?"
Spike glanced at the dark purple jelly dildo and then back at her. "Sean?"
Oh, he didn't look happy. Not happy at all. His face was drawn into a severe frown and his eyebrows were all scrunched together. Plus he was doing that squinty thing with his eyes. Oh, not good.
"Um, yeah? You know, like Sean Connery...?"
"Buffy, why-"
His voice was cut off by the doorbell and he sighed heavily. "Sod it all! Go get some clothes on, pet."
He set the bobbing appendage on the counter and started for the door, stopping short when he realized she was still sitting there.
"Come on, Buffy. Go get some clothes on. Don't want anyone seein' your girly bits but me, yeah?"
"You're not mad at me, are you?" She couldn't help the sniffle as her tears welled up.
Tilting his head, he hauled her up against his chest. "'m not mad. Little confused, but not mad. Now, go on." He kissed her forehead and slapped her ass playfully as he pushed her towards the bedroom.
She heard the doorbell chime again just before she closed the bedroom door behind her and she almost poked her head back out to see who it was, but she refrained. What if it was Angel or Xander? She couldn't possibly go walking around in her underwear in front of them! Nope, getting some pants on was a much better idea.
Originally, she was going to throw on a pair of jeans, but then she realized they would be impossible to button up with her burned fingers. So, she settled for navy blue sweat pants instead.
God, did she feel stupid! Who grabs a hot pan with their bare hand? Because she was so obviously fire-proof and all with those super-humany powers. She rolled her eyes and glared down at her red, blistering fingers.
And to top it all off, she had totally ruined the sexy-fest.
"No wonder Spike can't take you seriously, Buffy," she muttered to herself as she made her way out to the living room.
"Hey B! What's up?"
Buffy looked up to see Faith standing behind the couch with her hand on Spike's shoulder. She felt jealousy surge within her and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from saying anything stupid.
She knew there was nothing going on between Faith and Spike. He had said there wasn't and she trusted him. Even still, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious when ever Faith was around. The woman had seen Spike naked and had done things with him that Buffy couldn't even begin to fathom, not to mention the fact that Faith was gorgeous and strong and well, a woman.
"Not much," she managed.
Faith arched a dark eyebrow at her, but didn't call Buffy on the obvious hesitance in her voice. Instead she looked back at Spike. "Got anything to drink?"
"Fridge is all yours," Spike replied, gesturing towards the kitchen.
"Thanks."
They both followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table as she rifled through the refrigerator. She quickly popped back up with a beer in her hand, which she opened by way of the edge of the counter.
"So," Spike started, glancing nervously at the broken coffee mug on the floor. "Why are you here, Faith?"
Her amber brown eyes narrowed as she looked around the kitchen. "Wanted to come talk to you about Buffy's father."
"Have you heard something?" Buffy asked in a panicked voice.
"Chill, B. I haven't heard anything. Just wanted to ask you some more questions," Faith said, her gaze continuing sweep the room.
"Oh."
"But first...what the hell kinda freaky shit are you two doin' in here?"
Oh, God, she knows! What is she going to do? Is she going to arrest Spike?
"Freaky?" Spike folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair as if everything was a-okay.
"Yeah, blondie. Freaky. There's a dildo on the counter, a pair of ripped shorts in the corner, a broken coffee mug on the floor and it smells like sex and...burned molasses in here. You tryin' to tell me that's not some freaky-deaky? This is me, here. I invented freaky," Faith declared then took a long swig off her bottle.
Spike rolled his eyes. "It's not what you think."
"Riiight," Faith drawled out with a smirk.
"Jus' get on with it. You got some questions for Buffy, ask 'em. If not, there's the soddin' door," Spike replied angrily.
"Calm down. Geez! I never remembered you bein' this defensive before." Faith started towards the table, then stopped when she got a good look at Buffy's hand. "Jesus, girl! What the heck did you do to your hand?"
"She burned them on the oven," Spike said.
Faith's eyebrows went up. "I didn't know she needed you to talk for her."
Spike shot up and pointed a finger at her. "Hey, you don't-"
"Can it, Spike! You got a first aid kit?"
He stood there for a minute, staring at her with his mouth gaping open. "No," he said softly, blinking as if he was still trying to grasp what she had just said.
"Figures." Faith grinned down at Buffy before digging into her pocket to fish out her keys. "I got one in my car. Be a doll and go grab it, huh?" She tossed the keys to Spike and jerked her head towards the door. Spike hesitated slightly, but reluctantly stormed off anyway.
Faith plopped down in the chair that Spike had been sitting in and set her beer on the table. She motioned for Buffy's hand and Buffy complied even though what she really wanted to do was run after Spike.
"So, B, how's it going?" Faith asked as she studied the burned flesh.
"Okay."
Faith nodded. "And you and Spike?"
"Fine."
"He's not doing anything you don't want him to, is he?"
Buffy wrenched her hand away. "What?"
Sighing loudly, Faith rested her chin on her hand. "Look, Buffy, I'm turning a blind eye to all this. I should be taking you into state protective custody and throwing Spike in jail, but I'm not. I'm not because Spike and I go way back which means I trust him and if your dad is the asshole you say he is, you're better off here. But you gotta level with me here."
"Why do you think Spike would do something I don't want him to? You don't think he's hurting me, do you? 'Cause he is so not!" Buffy felt her anger rising. How dare she accuse Spike of hurting her!
Faith threw her hands up in defense. "Whoa, chica. Calm down. I just want to make sure you are okay. You hafta understand how this all looks and I can't, in good conscience, leave without asking the hard questions. Comprende?"
Buffy really didn't understand how 'it all looked' or what conclusions Faith was coming up with the 'evidence' she had seen. But she did understand Faith's point.
Nodding, Buffy stretched her hand back to the other woman. "Nothing bad is happening. Spike is good to me. He takes care of me."
Faith gave her a sincere smile before returning to her inspection of Buffy's wound. "Good. That's good. 'Cause otherwise, I'd have to kick his ass."
Spike watched the both of them and he had to wonder what had happened while he'd been outside. Buffy was smiling and Faith's bad attitude had all but disappeared. He just hoped they weren't conspiring against him or something.
"What about Buffy's father?" Spike finally cut in after fifteen minutes of inane chatter.
Faith immediately sobered up, the smile falling from her face. "I haven't heard anything about him."
"Why are you here then?" Spike's patience was wearing thin.
"Because I haven't heard anything about him."
"I'm afraid you've lost me there. If there isn't any news, then what could you possibly have t' tell us?"
"No one has come to see Willie D. There haven't been any alerts. I've checked with the LA County Sheriffs Department, the FBI, and everyone else I can think of, but no one has reported you missing, Buffy. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your dad isn't even looking for you?" Faith asked with a sigh.
Buffy looked at him, but Spike didn't have any answers for her. Faith had a point. If Hank Summers was so gung ho about locating his daughter, why hadn't he reported her missing? And if Willie D was working for him, why hadn't there been any contact made while he was stuck in county lock up?
Maybe Buffy's father wasn't looking for her at all. All signs pointed to that being a fact.
If that was true though, then why did Spike have this nagging worry in the back of his mind?