Five.
Buffy hissed the instant her back hit the sleeping bag, realizing for the first time just how silly it was to have naked, sweaty sex up against a tree. Her back felt like it was on fire, and although she couldn’t feel blood flowing, she imagined there might be one or two slices in her skin. She quickly rolled over onto her side, facing away from Spike, who was busy undressing and probably didn’t hear her gasp of pain. At least that’s what she was banking on. Why she was hiding it from him escaped her at the moment. Buffy wasn’t sure that was the best course of action, but she did it anyway.
The air mattress dipped slightly under his weight, not evening out until he stretched out behind her. His arms swept over her form, pulling her close and this time, she couldn’t hide the small flinch. Spike pulled back, whispering, “Sorry, kitten.”
He moved further away and Buffy’s stomach clenched. She knew what he was thinking, or at least thought she did. Quickly rolling over to her stomach, Buffy reached out a hand, fumbling in the dark for him. He’d settled on his back, fists at his side, and that was the first thing she found, his tensed fist. Her heart contracted along with her belly. “No, that’s . . . . I’m sorry. My back. . . “
Her voice trailed off into nothing, and she cursed the fact that whenever she tried to have an intelligent conversation with him, her tongue got all tied up in knots and her brain froze.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
A dejected sniffle alerted him to the fact that she was fighting tears and she shook her head, unable to answer him. Sensing the gesture rather than seeing it, Spike eased closer, his warm hand soothing her, running down her side. “What’s wrong?”
“It hurts.”
“Lemme look at it, yeah?” He leaned over her, reaching for the flashlight she’d left on her side of the mattress. Scooting down, he flicked the switch and lifted up her loose t-shirt. Dozens of tiny red scrapes and splotches marred the otherwise flawless skin of her back and Spike grimaced when he saw dirt in one of the cuts. “Where’s the first aid kit?”
“In my backpack.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow, but he heard the faint whine in it. Glad that she couldn’t see his slight smile of amusement, Spike swung the flashlight around, looking for her backpack. Spying it in the far corner, he leaned over her again, careful to keep himself from touching her back. He snagged it on the first try.
He fished out the necessary supplies before snapping the lid closed and chucking the kit into the backpack. Spike got to his knees, trying to figure out how to do this without waking anyone else up, or having them figure out what was going on. They were already pushing it, leaving the boys with Ken earlier, and he knew there was going to be some serious gossip in the morning. Right now, though, he needed to take care of Buffy. They’d worry about tomorrow when it happened.
Inspiration struck, and he moved down under the sleeping bag, whispering for Buffy to roll over onto her side. “Gonna get you all taken care of, kitten.”
“How bad is it?” She’d been strangely quiet up until that moment, just breathing shallow breaths, letting him get everything together.
“Not that bad, baby. Just a few scratches an’ a bruise or two. Be right as rain in a few days.” He opened up one of the alcohol pads, remarking, “This might sting a bit.”
She tensed, bracing herself for the sting and hissed again at the burning sensation. Tears sprang to her eyes and Buffy was very glad she was facing away from him. She’d really rather he didn’t see her acting like a baby.
It didn’t take him long, though he used more than one swab. She was panting by the time he was finished and he thought he detected more than one sniffle and barely whispered ‘ow’ while he was working. Thinking about how every mother the world over always soothed cuts and bruises with kisses, Spike decided that wasn’t a half bad idea. His right hand curled over her hip, running up her side to the spot where her breast swelled and he leaned in, placing little kisses over each tiny little cut.
He felt her shiver and a smile quirked his lips. Buffy scooted closer to him and her hand reached down to cover his. His lips traced over the cuts again, slower and more methodical this time, lingering especially over the ones low on her back, where it curved into the swell of her ass.
Another set of shivers overtook Buffy’s body and Spike started all over again, moving up, toward her neck. His hand pulled her closer to him, and he pushed his leg between hers, thrusting his hips gently. Spike opened his mouth, nipping just beneath her ear, whispering lowly, “How’re you feeling now, kitten? Any better?”
Her ‘Mmmhum,’ of delight was all the answer he got, though she did wriggle her hips into his.
His low, throaty chuckle against her neck was her complete undoing. Buffy’s entire body tingled, gooseflesh rising and every hair on her body standing at attention, waiting for Spike’s next move. Her hips moved again, and she gasped out his name breathlessly when his growling laugh sounded next to her ear.
“Will . . . “ Buffy half turned, bringing up her hand to cup his cheek. “Please, Will. . . “
“Please, what, kitten?” His hand cupped her breast, fingers rolling her nipple then tugging on it gently. “Are you ready for me? Want me again?”
“Ahuh.” She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, his roughened fingers caressing her soft flesh enough to send her careening into sensory overload. Every nerve ending was sensitized, ready for his touch.
“Tha’s good, baby, coz I want you. Wanna be inside you.” Spike traced a line from her breast down, over the soft curve of her belly, burrowing under her loose sleep pants to slide over her pussy. His thumb found her clit, swirling over it in increasingly smaller circles, and his fingers parted her folds, opening her up for him. “God, I love the way you feel. . . . Love . . . “
He bit down on his wayward tongue and his throat closed up, his heart wedging there. He couldn’t tell her yet, dare not tell her. It’s too soon, his mind was screaming, warring with his heart. Instead, Spike occupied his mouth a different way, leaving tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, any part of her he could reach.
Buffy’s hips bucked and Spike pushed her pants down, tangling them up in his feet. He’d slipped on a pair of sweats, and now he was cursing his nobility and trying to get himself free when she slithered out of them on her own. She was deliciously naked against him now, and his fingers buried themselves back inside her welcoming heat. “Need to be . . . God, woman. . . lemme in.”
A breathy giggle broke from her lips and she whispered back at him. “Want you too, Will, but . . . “ Her hands tried reaching around to free him from his sweats but she couldn’t reach. “Will, take off your clothes.”
Her voice was a sweet imitation of his growling one and Spike chuckled again. “Hang on, baby.”
With quick, economical movements, Spike slid his sweats down just far enough to free his cock. Moving just as quickly, he lifted Buffy’s leg over his own and slid into her from behind. “Oh. . . baby.”
“Will!” Her muffled shriek surprised them both. He laughed again from the sheer relief of joining with her once more.
He mumbled into her shoulder, “Kitten, I could stay like this forever,” and was surprised when she quipped back, “Would much rather be face to face with you.”
Spike froze mid-thrust then pulled out of her fully. When she protested, whimpering and trying to grab hold of him, he rolled her over to face him. “Wanna see you too, baby. All the time.”
His hips surged forward at the same time that his hand lifted her thigh over his hip and her hand guided him inside her. Their lips met in a slow, deep kiss which ended as he bit down softly on her lower lip. Buffy’s hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones, memorizing the texture and feel of him. They surged together, moving slowly, none of the fever of their earlier couplings needed now. This was slow, languid . . . building into a slow burn that surged through them both.
Spike’s hand were sweeping over her soft body, molding and cupping her breasts, the smooth cheek of her ass. He rolled onto his back, keeping her close, his mouth seeking hers. “Need you so much, Buffy. So fucking much.”
Buffy moved, lifting herself up a bit, but Spike held her down, flexing his hips. “No, baby. Stay here, like this.”
There was almost no friction, just infinitesimal movements. She shivered and gulped for air, feeling him pulse inside her. Her vaginal muscles constricted and he gasped, feeling the tightening all the way to his toes. “Oh, bloody hell, do tha’ . . . . yeah. Jus’ like tha’.”
She grinned at his reaction, tucking her head in the crook of his shoulder. “Oh, Will. . . I love . . . this. . . “
Their combined orgasm was slow, deep, and prolonged. Each slip and slide of his flesh inside hers triggered another, building on the smallest surge until the waves drowned them both.
Spike curled onto his side, still deep inside Buffy, holding her within the circle of his arms.
Her breathing evened out long before his and the last coherent thought he had was I’d give anything to fall asleep like this for the rest of my life.
Somehow, he knew he was going to make that happen.
Despite the fact they’d been the last ones asleep the night before, Spike was up early. He knew he couldn’t do any more damage to Buffy’s reputation, so he’d forced himself to sleep lightly, stirring long before any of the others were up, including the children. Spike never slept well outside of his own bed anyway, even in hotel rooms, and sleeping on a very uncomfortable air mattress didn’t help matters. First thing he was doing when he brought Wesley back home – after a shower – was sleep for a couple of hours.
Reluctantly parting from Buffy’s warm embrace, Spike pulled on his jeans and donned a necessary sweatshirt. It was cold, and he could see his breath puffing in the early morning mist as he got a warm fire going. He knew the scouts were scheduled for breakfast and then some sort of closing ceremony; the campgrounds had to be vacated sometime before one in the afternoon. Guessing at the hour, he figured he might as well start a fire, since they boys were going to have to cook again.
With time on his hands, and no one to distract him from his thoughts, Spike found his mind wandering. He wondered what Dru was going to think about all this, his meeting Buffy and falling head over heels within the course of thirty-six hours. She had been the driving force of most of his long-term relationships, pushing he and Darla together when they were just kids, and staying mad at him for years after they’d split. He sometimes wondered if that was why her oldest daughter was named Darla, but he’d never once dared bring it up; knowing she’d likely fly off the handle at him. Drusilla had to have met Buffy – even in passing – because their boys seemed to be good friends. He wondered what the hell else he’d been missing on the weekends when he had escaped to Los Angeles. Wouldn’t put it past m’sister to have planned this whole thing. . .
His gaze drifted from the now crackling fire to the tent he’d vacated not too long ago. Inside those flimsy nylon walls was someone who’d burst into his life like a shooting star, all brilliant and burnished gold. Buffy was unlike any other woman he’d met in his whole life. She was smart, funny, adorable. . . and though he’d met a fair share of women with all those qualities, and some with better bodies, he’d never met one with everything. A smile crossed his features as he remembered some chick flick that Dru had made him sit down and watch. He hadn’t minded because Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock were in it – both of whom he’d later met in reality – and he’d been caught by the wishes of Bullock’s character. She’d wished for someone when she was small. . . . He’d never told anyone but when he was younger, he’d had this imaginary friend and she was a small fairy type, with golden hair and whirly eyes and . . .
Spike smiled once again, thinking that just maybe he’d wished for her to be real long enough and hard enough that the universe had listened and taken pity on the lonely little boy he’d been.
Part of him wondered, perhaps, if Dru had known all those years ago, since she, too had been one to have imaginary friends. She’d always gone on about the pixies anyway. . . Maybe. . . Nah. Spike shook his head, smiling at his thoughts. He wasn’t going to analyze this to death. He was just going to enjoy the gift he’d been given and thank whatever forces had brought them together. Now he just had to figure out how to solidify things. . . keep her forever.
He didn’t want to lose her. Didn’t want to let this . . . whatever this was between them drift away into the ether. Spike wanted to . . . Admit it you wanker, you’re in love. For the first time in years, you’ve gone and fallen. So what do I do now?
Buffy wasn’t like any of the other women who’d drifted into his life. He already knew that. With the groupies and the others he came into contact with, he didn’t have to work at all; didn’t have to wonder what their preferences about dinner were, or what kind of flowers they liked, what kind of movies they preferred. No, all he had to worry about with them was how to get rid of them when he was done using them. Occasionally, he’d had to get nasty with some of the more persistent ones; even going so far as having restraining orders on a couple. He knew how to get rid of a woman. He just wasn’t so sure he knew how to hold onto one.
And he wanted to. Wanted to hold onto her until he was old and grey, with their children and grandchildren all around them. Hang on a tick. . . children?
Children.
The fire crackled, throwing wild sparks up to the still dark sky and Spike followed the sparks, his eyes drawn to the few stars still twinkling in the sky. Yeah, children sounded damn good.
So good, in fact, he wondered if they’d been lucky enough to get caught. They’d certainly gone at it enough this weekend to have it happen, but the odds weren’t exactly with them. It was a long shot at best, and Spike was aware that her getting pregnant both made things easier and harder. It would be one way to make certain she didn’t slip from his grasp. . . though he was sure that wasn’t how he wanted things to be. He wanted her, yeah . . . wanted her to bear his children, too, but he didn’t want to coerce her. He wanted her to willingly bind herself to him. Talk about a tall order, mate. . . she’s only just met you. Maybe she’s not feeling the same, did ya happen to think of that?
Buffy was dreaming. She knew she was. Dreaming about crystal blue eyes and strong cheekbones and calloused fingers and . . . . her eyes fluttered open and she curled into the sleeping bag, seeking warmth that was no longer there. Damn. I knew it was too good to be true. Bleah.
Except, when she stretched, her back itched and pulled, indicating something had healed overnight and she was bare-assed naked. Her body was sluggish and lethargic and sore in so many places. Burying her head underneath the edges of the sleeping bag, leaving only enough space for air to get in, Buffy drifted along in a sleepy haze, her mind wonderfully blank. Until the sleep starting clearing itself from her head and the outside noises began penetrating her brain-fogginess.
Oh. . . where the hell. . . . right, Xander’s camping trip. OH! Her mind woke up, hearing the faint noise of a guitar being plucked and strummed not to far from where she was trying to go back to sleep. No. . . oh yeah, girl. It was all real, every last instant.
Her body was achy, unused to so much sexual activity. It had been years since she and Angel had engaged in marathons, probably since before they had gotten married. Ugh. So don’t wanna think about him. . . not after last night. Thoughts of what she’d been doing and with whom consumed her. Embarrassment flooded her and she blushed, wondering what he must be thinking about her. Bet he thinks I’m just another girl in a long line . . . Ugh! So need to stop that.
He’s not thinking that way.
He’s not.
Buffy fought with the clothes bunched at the bottom of the sleeping bag, struggling to get something on before her all-too-curious child came looking for her. She could hear his voice mixed in with the other boys and figured she only had a little bit of time before he came charging into the tent. From what she could tell, nearly everyone else was awake, which just added to her stress. They’d made no secret of their attraction to each other, and Spike had asked Ken to keep an eye out for Xander and Wesley while he and Buffy went off for a walk last night. Right. Like anyone had bought that excuse.
Sure enough, just as she was pulling a tee shirt on over her head, Xander’s excited voice sounded outside the tent. Bracing herself for the impact of his eight-year old enthusiasm, Buffy was struck dumb when she heard Spike’s voice. “Hey there, Xander, leave your mum be. She was up late.”
What surprised her was his proximity, and the softness of his tone. He wasn’t yelling; was in fact almost whispering to her son, who – to her further surprise – was apparently listening. “Okay. Should I make everyone be quiet?”
She blinked away the sudden tears that question and the caring behind it evoked, and rolled to a sitting position. No need to be all damselly. . . Buffy smiled, thinking that her earlier thoughts might just be a bit off. There might just be more to this thing between them.
She sure as hell hoped so, because she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him.
Her first sight of him after emerging from the tent had her amending that thought.
He was crouched down, speaking to her normally fidgety son, each of them focused on the other. Xander was staring at Spike, his head nodding up and down, not interrupting until Spike had finished. When he was done, Xander looked down at his hands and shrugged. He then stole a glance toward the tent. His smile was broad and captivating, and he looked so much like his grandmother that Buffy had to laugh. He got nothing from her or Angel, looking so much like his Romanian grandmother that he could be considered her son. He pointed at her, and Spike rose to his feet, spying Buffy watching them both.
Almost identical grins crossed their faces and Buffy couldn’t help herself from responding. Xander sprang to his feet, crossing the distance between them at a run. “Hey, Mom!”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tight. Spike took his time, allowing them a moment, before sauntering toward them. Buffy hugged Xander back, lifting her eyes to find Spike standing just inches away. She blushed, seeing the twinkle in his eye and knowing exactly what he was thinking.
“Mornin’, kitten.”
“Good morning yourself.”
“Mmm. . . ‘s almost a good mornin’. Could’ve been better.” Her smile faltered a little bit, until he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Could’ve woken up inside of you, feeling you surroundin’ me.”
Buffy gaped at him and then ducked her head in an effort to hide the blush creeping over her face. “C’mon, sweetheart, saved you some breakfast an’ coffee.”
“There’s donuts, Mom, and hot chocolate.” Xander grabbed her hand, tugging her forward. “No mini-marshmallows, though. Someone forgot and brought only the big ones.”
She tripped along beside the two of them, a little overwhelmed by their enthusiasm. Buffy glanced around, noting that none of the other parents even looked in their direction. “Will? How long have you been up?”
“Hours, pet. Was the first outta bed this mornin’.” At her crestfallen expression, he leaned in closer. “Wanted to stay put, but . . . “ He quickly scanned the rest of the campers, his expression stern. “Didn’t want you catchin’ any grief, yeah?”
“Oh, Will, that’s . . . “ She smiled up at him when he reached out to cup her cheek.
“Would do anything to see you smile like this all the time, kitten.” He leaned in, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. “Love your smile.”
Xander nervously giggled, stage whispering to Wesley, “Your uncle likes my mom.”
Sneaking a quick glance at the adults and spying Buffy kissing Spike’s cheek; Wesley pushed up his glasses, then shoulder bumped the other boy. “Nahuh. Your mum likes m’uncle.”
The two boys went back and forth for a few moments, collapsing in helpless laughter when Jordan broke in with the age-old ‘kissing’ rhyme.
With half an ear toward the boys, Buffy suddenly felt her own giggles surfacing. “Can’t stop smiling.”
“Neither can I, baby, neither can I.” Spike leaned forward again, this time capturing her mouth in a quick kiss. He pulled back, stared into her eyes for a moment, then leaned in once more, his own eyes swirling with intensity as he murmured softly, “God, I love you.”
Buffy froze, staring at him with wide, stunned eyes.
to be continued. . .