Spiritgasms...part 4
"You could be the devil in my head
You could be the angel in my bed
You could be the voices that I hear
I'm singing along
Because it sounds just like you're near..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike sat on the end of Buffy's bed as she
toweled herself off and slipped on her nightgown.
Smiling again like an idiot, his eyes moved up and
down her small frame. She had donned his absolute
favorite piece of sleepwear. Made of pink silk, it
had thin ribbon straps and fell to just above her
knees. The low neckline gave him a very nice
view of her cleavage whenever she leaned over.
"God, I could almost swear you know that I'm
here, luv. You chose that lavender bath oil and
now that nightgown. You know how much I love
that on you."
Buffy sat down in the small armchair by the window
and pulled the clips out of her hair. Spike watched
in complete delight as her honey blonde hair
tumbled down her back. Soft, wispy curls created
by the steamy bathroom framed her pretty face.
As she brushed her hair, she stared out the window
that was opened just enough to let in the cool night
breeze.He could smell the scent of the ocean's clean,
salty air as it drifted through the room.
When he looked back at Buffy, he saw that
she was finished with her hair, and was looking
up at the stars. Her sweet face looked sad. It
made his heart ache to see it, but he consoled himself
with the knowledge that he would be back with
her soon, and would do everything in his power
to make sure she was never sad like that again.
"Come to bed, baby," he said softly.
With a deep sigh, Buffy stood up and turned
out the lamp on her nightstand, then pulled
back the blankets and crawled in beneath them.
He waited until she'd settled herself for sleep,
then moved up beside her.
"Buffy," he whispered. "I love you, baby. I'm
trying like hell to get back to you. But...if I can't
manage it, please remember how much I love
you, and don't be too sad. I know you loved
me, too."
She turned on her side, cuddling her pillow.
Spike couldn't hold back a smile. She slept the
way a child sleeps, on her stomach, with one
leg pulled up. The only difference was that she
had her arms wrapped around a pillow and not
a teddy bear.
He took a quick look around the room, and saw
that she hadn't been able to salvage most of her
things from the house in Sunnydale. He recognized
a few items, some pictures and little knick-knacks
that she'd accumulated over the years. He could
see her photo albums stacked up on a shelf next
to her high school yearbook.
There wasn't much else from her childhood. This
was the bedroom of a grown woman, whereas her
old room had still retained the look and feel of a little
girl's, and then of the teenager she had been when
he'd first known her.
There were no rock star posters on these walls. In-
stead, she had hung framed prints by a few painters
he recognized.
The mirror over her vanity table was no longer cluttered
with snapshots and souvenirs of high school dances
and football games.
All that remained of her myriad collection of stuffed
animals was her little pig. He was glad to see it had
been rescued from whatever fate had befallen his
compatriots. "Well, well....Mr. Gordo. I see you caught
the last bus out of town. You been taking good care of
our girl?"
He started when Buffy suddenly turned her head sharp-
ly in his direction. Rolling over in bed, she sat up
and stuck her finger in her ear, then wiggled it the
way someone does when they've just climbed out of
a swimming pool.
"Lie down, sweetie," he said softly.
Without a moment's hesitation, she did as he told
her.
Spike grinned hugely. If only she would keep up this
blind obedience once he was properly able to take
advantage of it.
It would be a lot of fun for a while, but he loved Buffy's
spirit and sass, and the challenge she always presented
him with. Even after they had begun their
physical relationship, this little girl could play hard-to-
get with the best of them when it suited her to, and
he'd always found it wildly exciting when she did.
Sometimes she would present him with a cold
shoulder and a distant attitude. Other times, she
would literally BE hard to get, running from him like
the devil was on her heels, laughing and taunting
him to try and catch her. They had spent more than
one pleasant interlude rolling in the wet grass
of some park he'd pursued her through.
Just the memory of those times was making him
achingly hard once again.
Lying beside him, Buffy sighed restlessly. She
kicked the covers off, as though she was unbearably
hot beneath them.
"Maybe" Spike whispered, leaning closer, "you should
take off your nightgown and sleep naked. The way
we used to...remember, luv? We never put on any-
thing when we slept. We didn't want it to get in the
way if one of us woke up and wanted to make love."
Buffy had always been sweetly accomodating when
that happened to him. It was as though she knew that
he couldn't help it, that sometimes he would wake up
with an urgent need to be buried deeply inside of her.
Most girls would throw a bitch fit if a fella interrupted
their sleep, would call him selfish and demanding
for feeling as though he might as well just pack it
all in if he couldn't make love right then and there to
the woman he couldn't exist without.
But, as difficult as Buffy could certainly be, she never
turned him down when he absolutely could not stand
to go another instant without the sweet promise of her
body lying beneath his.
He remembered one time he had woken her up very
early in the morning. She had been exhausted from
a productive patrol the night before, and hadn't even
been totally awake when he'd moved on top of her.
She'd warned him that she was too sleepy to parti-
cipate in the fun and games, but he had slipped
inside of her and began thrusting anyway, explain-
ing that it was all right..that she didn't have to do a
thing..because, every once in a while, there was no-
thing better than a good, old-fashioned, one-sided
Victorian fuck.
"Come on, luv...take it off. You know you want
to," he urged her. "Pretend I'm beside you, begging
you." He chuckled softly. "You loved to make me beg,
didn't you? Satisfied that dominatrix streak of
yours. And it worked, too. All you had to was wiggle
that shapely little arse and I was on my knees."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Cause you're so beautiful
You're beautiful today
You're so beautiful
Beautiful in every way..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Take your gown off, darling. I want to
see you naked again."
Buffy thrashed around on the bed, as though
searching for a comfortable spot to sleep in,
then sat up.
"Too damn hot in here," she mumbled, whipping
the pink silk off and tossing it on the floor.
Flopping back down on the bed, she stared up at
the ceiling. "Go to sleep," she commanded herself,
then closed her eyes.
"Not yet, luv," Spike said. Deciding to experiment
a little, he extended one hand and touched her
arm with the tip of his index finger.
The sensation raced through him. He could feel it! Light
and fragile though it was, he had made some kind of
contact!
Spike could tell by the way Buffy caught her breath
that she had felt something as well.
"Buffy...spread your legs. Spread them wide apart. I
want to try something."
Sighing deeply, she complied. Her eyes were closed,
and her arms slipped underneath her pillow.
He moved down on the bed, and into the space between
her parted thighs. Gazing down at her, he licked his
lips.
There it was...his own paradise on earth. The sweetest
piece of female flesh he'd ever tasted.
She was as pretty down there as she was everywhere else.
Her thighs were lightly tanned, and
her sex was adorned with neatly trimmed, light brown
curls. When she was aroused, those curls glistened
with the moisture her healthy young body provided.
Lowering his head, he trailed his tongue down her
cleft, then waited for her reaction.
Although her eyes were still closed, he could tell
by the way she tensed up that she had, on some
level, felt what he had just done.
After a moment, her head lolled to one side and
her lips parted. He saw her little pink tongue creep
out and moisten those lips, then she took a deep
breath and slowly released it.
"Again," she whispered on a sigh.
Smiling, he dipped his head back down and licked
her from bottom to top, ending with a gentle suck
at her clit.
Surely she would know what was happening. He
had always begun going down on her that way.
He waited, and she lifted her hips ever so slightly.
"Spike," she whimpered. "Please...."
"Yes, baby. Anything for you," he promised, then
sank back down, licking and sucking, eating her
until she was panting.
"Come on, baby," he said, stopping briefly. "Do
it. I want to taste that cream. I'm so fucking hungry
for it..."
When he went back down, he was delighted to find
that he could exert a little more pressure, and that
he was beginning to taste her. It was just the tiniest
amount...like faintly flavored water...but it was there.
Her breathing escalated and he knew she was
close. Hoping like hell that it would cooperate, he
stiffened his tongue and pushed it up into her as
deeply as he could force it to go.
"Ahh...oh...oh, God," Buffy moaned. Her hips began
rising and falling as he swept his tongue around
and around her pussy.
She came when he moved back to her clit and
lashed it roughly with his tongue. Her taste was
stronger now, and he licked her hard, shaking his
head just a little for some vibration.
When it was over, Buffy went limp on the bed
and panted for air.
"Oh, God...what the hell IS that?" she whined.
Spike grinned. "It's me, baby. I'm on my way
back to you. Gonna make my girl feel soooo
good just as soon as I can."
He climbed off the bed and walked through the
bedroom wall and onto a small brick terrace.
Scanning the midnight blue sky, he placed
his thumb and index finger in his mouth and released
a piercing whistle.
"SANDY?" he called out. "How's about a progress
report, luv?”
He waited, but all he heard was the sound of
waves hitting the rock formations, slithering
in and back out of the little caves and grottos.
"Ah, come on, Sandy," he groaned. "I'm going
nuts down here. If I can't touch her properly real
damn soon...I'll...well, I won't be responsible for
whatever happens," he added as a warning.
"Don't you threaten ME, you unregenerate
hooligan," Melisande said sharply.
Spike laughed. "Ooohh...got your big words on
today, Tinkerbell. I'd best be worried, eh?"
She was silent for a moment. "How would you
like me to disconnect you and just leave you
there the way you are?" she asked.
"No...no, I wouldn't like that one bit," he said
quickly.
"Well, for someone who wouldn't like it," she
informed him, "you sure are begging for it."
"I'm sorry," he said winningly. "I'll be good, I
promise."
He heard a disbelieving snort. "What do you want
now?" she asked.
"I just wondered how the repairs are going, luv. You
any closer to fixing the portal?"
Melisande sighed. "I have good news and bad
news," she reported. "What do you want first?"
Spike slapped one hand to his forehead. He hated
hearing things like that. The good news was never
really all that much better than the bad news.
"The good news," he said wearily.
"We found Peter."
"And the bad?"
"We lost him again."
"WHAT?" Spike shouted. "HOW?"
"Oh, we didn't actually LOSE him, as in we can't
find him," Sandy explained confusingly. "It's just
that he's...well..."
"He's drunk!" Spike snapped. "Again!"
"He got into the sacramental wine with Paul and
Luke. You know how they get."
"Yes! I know how they get!" Spike was almost
livid with frustration. "They're a bunch of old
fools who spend all their time with their snoots in
a wine jug, bragging about their glory days with
the big boss." He waved his hands in irritated
disgust. "Fine way to behave in front of...."
"Speaks the sober and abstemious young THUG
who painted the front gates red and hung a sign
saying 'Spike's Place...We Specialize In
The Seven Deadly Sins,' " she replied dryly.
Spike rolled his eyes. He'd always known THAT
little stunt would come back and bite him in the
ass someday. "Hey!" he said, pointing one finger.
"I apologized for that...AND...I repainted those
gates the very next day, even though I had the
worst fucking hangover of my life."
"All right," Sandy said reasonably. "What about the
time you convinced Michael and Raphael to go back
to the year 1880 and visit an establishment known
as 'Madam Claire's' in order to, and I quote, 'Get
their ya-ya's out and lose their buggering innocence
once and for all'."
"What?" he asked, shrugging. "It was just a pub."
"It was a brothel!"
Spike couldn't help it. He snickered. "Yeah," he said,
remembering his own exploits there. "It was a hell of
a good one, too," he mused fondly.
"Indeed?" she inquired frostily. "And you know this
because...?"
He ducked his head. "Never mind," he muttered, then
said, "But, anyway...it's not like anything bad happened."
"Because Gabriel got there in time to stop you!" Sandy
said loudly. "You three were so inebriated you could
barely stand up. Goodness only knows WHAT could
have happened."
"Oh, come on, luv." He tried to placate her. "The WORST
thing that could have happened was they'd have gotten
shagged. Ain't hardly the end of the world now, is it?"
Melisande sighed once again. "Must I remind you that
they are ARCHANGELS? Their STRENGTH..is IN..their
PURITY!" she said deliberately.
"Well, yeah but I...."
"And don't even get me started on the time you
taught the Heavenly Choir that dreadful song."
"Come on!" he said defensively. "That song happens
to be a classic little piece of music, I'll have
you know."
"SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL?" she squealed,
hurting his ears. "Do you honestly think THAT
is the type of song that a certain someone wants
to hear?"
"I just..."
"You corrupted the Heavenly Choir!" she shouted
him down. "If there is ANYONE with no stones
left to throw when it comes to the subject of in-
temperate behavior, that individual would be YOU!"
Spike was sorry he'd brought the subject
up in the first place. "So, what's the story on
Peter?" he asked, hoping to smooth her ruffled
white feathers.
"Peter," she replied tartly, "is quite happily asleep
in a rowboat in the middle of the lake."
"He went fishing?"
"He went fishing."
Spike closed his eyes and massaged his temples,
as if he were trying to soothe a monstrous head-
ache.
"Can somebody go and get him? Please?"
"We're working on it," Sandy said. "I'll get back
to you, so just...behave yourself."
He sank down onto a small stone bench to wait,
but then began to cast his eyes longingly towards
the french doors leading to Buffy's bedroom.
A slow smile began to form on his face.
"Well...looks like I won't be going anywhere
just now, anyway."
He stood up and stepped back through the
doors. There was an infinitesimal amount of
resistance this time, which had to mean that he
was starting to become more solid.
"About fucking time," he muttered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I could be the drug you can't resist
I could be the antidote you missed
I could be the love you hate to fear
You're filling the hole inside your heart
With feeling near to me...
Cause you're so beautiful
You're beautiful today
You're so beautiful
Beautiful in every way
Cause when you're coming around
I'm off the ground, I have to say
You're so beautiful
So beautiful today...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC....
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