[Reviews - 364]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 4455 times

- Text Size +




Blue Eyed Devil
Part 22





Buffy swallowed hard as she walked toward Spike,
sitting there so calmly on his mounted death
machine.

Being brave by putting on a false face was one thing,
but she was now finding out that actually following through
with said bravado was quite another.

"Come on, baby," he said, smiling charmingly. Oh, that
smile was going to be the end of her, she had no doubt.

As she moseyed towards him, hoping that something would
come up to change his mind about going for a ride...anything
would do, fire-flood-famine, she wasn't feeling picky...he suddenly
kick started the engine, making it come to life with the kind of a
scream she'd only heard in movies.

Her hands automatically flew up to cover her ears. She could
see him mouthing words at her, but couldn't hear them.

"What?" she yelled, shaking her head and frowning.

He started to speak again, then rolled his eyes and mimed
her removing her hands from over her ears.

"Oh." The scream of the motor had settled down to a bearable
roar, and she grinned uncertainly. "Did you want to tell me
something?" she asked loudly, still maintaining a healthy
distance from the mechanized beast.

Devlin gave her an appraising look, then beckoned her forward
with one finger.

Yep. Death. It was a certainty.

Buffy inched a bit closer. "Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

"Pardon me?" Another inch.

He spoke louder. "What...is...wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, trying to sound sincere.

"Then climb on," he said, again holding out one
hand.

There was no way she could avoid it without looking
like a total weenie. Placing one hand in his, she let
him guide her onto the saddle behind him.

Buffy wound her arms around his middle, tightly enough
to cut off vital bodily functions. He patted the back
of her hand, then turned on the seat to look at her.

"You ever been on a bike before?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said...have you ever been on a bike...before?"

What, was he kidding? Was she behaving like someone
to whom such things as this were everyday
occurrences?

"No," she confessed. "But I've always," she mentally
crossed her fingers and toes, "wanted to."

Devlin gave her a seriously doubtful look. "You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded hard. "Let's...you know...blow this
popsicle stand!"

He laughed, clearly delighted. Apparently, she'd been
successful at convincing him that she was ready to place
her life in his hands. "Give me a kiss first," he demanded.

She kissed him long and hard, almost ruining her
brazen front by saying "goodbye".


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


After she'd been on the machine for a while, she began
to relax. It wasn't nearly as frightening as she'd imagined
it would be.

Of course, he was staying off the main streets and
highways and was sticking to the coast road. The
"scenic route", he called it.

Stopping at a small roadside drive-in, the likes of which she
didn't know still existed outside of old movies and television
programs, he waited patiently as she used the bathroom.

Buffy's kidneys had taken a bumpy ride, and she stayed
until she couldn't squeeze out another drop, not wanting to
have to ask him to pull over beside a clump of bushes on the
way back.

When she came out of the bathroom, she found him standing
in front of a stand of trees, gazing out over the ocean as the
setting sun painted it gold and crimson. The place where he
stood was less than five feet from a sheer drop to the rocky
shoreline below.

She hated to bother him. He seemed to be thinking about
something quite deeply, and it felt crass of her to just push on
into his private thoughts.

Walking towards him, she stood by a bunch of unoccupied picnic
tables, waiting for him to notice her.

It didn't take long. He turned and smiled, then straddled one
of the benches and held out his hand. "Come and sit down
for a minute."

Buffy started to sit facing him, but he turned her around so that
she was facing the setting sun. Pulling her back until she was
reclining in his arms, he nuzzled her hair. "Can I ask you a
question?"

Hoping she wasn't about to be quizzed on any previous
experiences she might have had on motorcycles before,
she agreed.

"Well...not that I don't love the effect...but why did you go back
into the club looking like Miss Buffy, my sweet and no longer virginal
little preschool teacher, and then come back out looking like Ann
Margaret in 'Kitten With a Whip'?"

Well, she could hardly say that it was eavesdropping on a
private conversation that had inspired her sudden makeover.
Problem was, she just wasn't good at spur-of-the-moment
falsehoods.

"I just thought that I didn't look...that you might think I'm...well,
not sexy enough," she said lamely.

"For who?" he asked, clearly surprised. "For me? What have I EVER done or said to make you think that?"


Before she could stop them, the words were out of her
mouth and into his ear. "YOU didn't say anything."

She came down a tad too hard on the word 'you', and he
picked up on it. "But SOMEONE said something?"

Buffy just shrugged. No big deal.

Devlin easily narrowed a list of suspects. It couldn't be
Oz. In the first place, Oz never commented on the girls
his friends dated, and in the second place...Oz rarely
commented on much of anything. Stoic as the bleeding
Sphinx, the man was.

Andy was just as unlikely as Oz. He liked all girls, every
one he came into contact with, appearances notwithstand-
ing. All a girl had to have was a pulse.

Or not! Sometimes a pulse was optional.

After counting Oz and Andy out, it was obvious that Xander
was the culprit. He had a bad habit of opening his mouth
before his brain kicked in, and it had nearly gotten him
punched in the nose on more than one occasion.

Buffy was fidgeting uncomfortably, breaking his
concentration. "So...what did this mystery person say
to you? Come on, love...I know it was Xander. Tell
me so I can beat the crap out of him and still have time
to hire a new drummer before the tour."

She was sorry that she'd ever said anything. Was it
possible to actually die of embarrassment? Was she
about to find out?


Hating to say it, she mumbled something he couldn't
quite hear.

"What?"

"I said..." She raised her voice a little. "...prim and proper."

"Who is?"

"Apparently, I am!"

"He TOLD you that?!"

Buffy squirmed. "Not exactly."

"Well, WHAT exactly?" Spike asked, understandably
confused.

"He wasn't saying it to ME."

"Buffy." He made her turn and look at him. "What did he
say?"

Wishing the side of the cliff would suddenly slide off
into the ocean so that she could change the subject,
Buffy confessed. "That I'm not your type. My hair is
always pulled back...I don't wear enough make up...and
my skirt is too long."


"Fuck! I AM gonna kill him."

"Oh, don't get him WRONG," Buffy quoted, still a
little stung. "I'm nice and all that, but I'm just not your
usual type."

"I have a 'usual' type?"

"Xander seems to think so." She allowed herself a
tiny smile. "On the bright side, though....I have potential."

Devlin sighed and squeezed her. "Buffy...you're the only girl I
want. You know that....don't you?"

"You mean," she said teasingly, turning back to face the
ocean, "now that I'm more your usual type?"

"No!" he said quickly. "I mean...you have been...you...oh,
come on, you know what...I...hey, did I just hear you giggle?"

"Maybe a little," she admitted, trying to control it. "But, listen,
you can't yell at Xander...cause he'll think I'm a big tattle-
tale. I don't even let my kids kids get away with that."

He grumbled about it, but made no promise to keep quiet. In-
stead, he turned her on the bench and pulled her onto his
lap, kissing her until she was breathless.

"So, you like this look?" she finally asked, gesturing
down at her new 'self'.

Devlin gave her a long, slow once over, his hands rubbing
caressingly up and down her back. "I like any look that you
care to show me," he said, nuzzling her ear. "Especially the
one you showed me yesterday on the stairs..."

"Spike!"

"And in the bed..."

"Quit it!"

"And the shower..."

"I'm leaving."

"No, you're not." He bit down on her earlobe.

Buffy waited, then gave him a little push. "Hey! Let's not
forget the kitchen counter!" she reminded him.

He grinned lecherously. "Oh, I'll NEVER forget the
kitchen counter," he said, lifting his eyebrows in a highly
suggestive manner that turned Buffy's cheeks pink. "It'll
be one of our shining moments."

"One of them?"

"Uh-huh. In point of fact," he went on, kissing the warm
skin of her collarbone, "I was thinking about making
another...very special...memory."

Buffy pulled back and looked at him suspiciously. "Ex-
plain."

Devlin jerked his head to one side. "See that bike over
there? Well, I was thinking...."

"You know what?" Buffy interrupted. "You've gotta quit
calling that thing a bike. I ride a bike. It has two pedals
and one gear, and a little basket on the front, and the
brakes are...."

"The brakes are what?" he asked sharply.

"The brakes are fine." She leaned back in his embrace
and caught his "how dumb do you think I AM?" look. "They
will be fine," she amended. "I'll get them fixed."

"Thank you," he said politely. "Please do it BEFORE you
take another ride down Suicide Hill."

"Sunset Avenue," Buffy corrected. "And I was only nine
years old when that happened."

"I know, but you said...."

"And it wasn't even the same bike!"

He had to kiss her to stop her talking. "That's better,"
he said, when he'd subdued her into passivity. "Now, about
the bike...the MOTORCYCLE...I was having this little
fantasy earlier. When we were driving out here...you had your
arms around me...and I kept imagining one of your pretty
little hands slipping down into my..."

"It's the new look isn't it?" Buffy interrupted, hoping to
steer him away from the subject of motorcycle sex. "Now,
you think I'm easy."

With a sigh that started somewhere in the soles of his
feet, Devlin looked her square in the eye. "Miss Buffy...if
there ever was a word that couldn't be applied to you, the
word would be easy."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


While waiting for it to get completely dark, Devlin
ordered hamburgers and the greasiest french fries
Buffy had ever tasted.

She watched him douse his food liberally in salt
and ketchup, then dump seven packets of
sugar...SEVEN of them!....into a paper cup of iced
tea.

He took a long swallow and grinned at her. "Putting ice
in tea is one of the best ideas you yanks have ever
come up with."

"Nice to know we're good for something besides kicking
England's ass in a war," she came back smartly.

Spike laughed. "Well, someone's saucy tonight." He
looked up at her as she was licking a smear of ketchup
off one finger, and his voice changed dramatically. "You
ready to go, love?"

"Yeah, I guess..." She glanced up and caught the look
on his face. "...so."

"Good," he nodded. "Because if I can't be somewhere alone
with you real damn quick...I'll have to drop this ice in my lap."




TBC.....

AN: I stole the "pulse optional" line from
British comedian, Eddie Izzard.





You must login (register) to review.