Due to her hectic schedule, Buffy knew that Riley was feeling neglected and was driving her bonkers with the constant pouting about their lack of alone and complaining about not setting the date for the wedding yet. Buffy couldn’t help the nagging feeling that plagued her daily that maybe all of his whining and pouting was because he might be a little bit jealous of the publicity her career was getting all of the sudden, since his last movie hadn’t done so well at the box office. Riley’s faltering career had him crabbier than normal, but at least he hadn’t treated her the way he had at the airport when traveling home after the holidays, which Buffy had ended up chalking up to stress from meeting her family and his movie that had released the weekend after New Year’s. Since that night, he had been a perfect gentleman and back to acting like his charming self, for which Buffy was grateful. That night had not only left her with a series of plum colored bruises circling her bicep, but had caused doubts about their relationship that still had a tendency to linger in the back of her mind to this day.
At his apartment, the one he used to share with Drusilla, but now resided in all alone, Spike choked on his coffee and cursed as the hot liquid dribbled down his chin. The magazine in his hand had shocked the shit out of him and caused him to momentarily forget the hot beverage in the other hand. After carefully sitting the mug of steaming hot black coffee down on the table, he turned his attention back to the magazine; most importantly, the cover of the Maxim magazine that had him stunned in to silence.
There on the cover of the magazine was his golden goddess, staring back at him with desire in her eyes and little to nothing covering her tight little body. Perched on the edge of a desk, wearing the skimpiest schoolgirl uniform in the history of uniforms, was the woman that had been running rampant in his fantasies for months on end. Her shampoo commercial worthy golden locks were tied in braided pigtails with pink ribbons trailing from the ends, making her appear both sweet and sexy at the same time. The outfit, or lack thereof, consisted of a silky white shirt with the buttons mostly undone, teasingly tied under her pert breasts which were encased in a pink lace bra, paired with the teensiest pink and white plaid skirt, which was short enough to show the lacy rows of ribbon that adorned the pink underwear that teasingly peeked out below the tartan material. White thigh high stockings decorated with tiny pink bows on the front and black patent high heeled Mary Jane’s completed the visually stimulating outfit. She was so sexy that Spike barely glanced at the dark haired girl perched on the next desk who wore a black and red replica of the stunning blonde beauty; dark and light contrasting against one another.
Mustering up his composure, Spike managed to get his hands to open the magazine and locate the article about the girls on the cover. At long last, he finally had a name to go with the memory of her face and body, Buffy Summers. He wasn’t shocked in the slightest to find out that she was the lead singer of the newest hit band, Serenity, not since hearing her soulful voice at the club. He finished the article quickly since there wasn’t much more than a glossed over section about their sudden success, but his eyes lingered on the photos that were scattered throughout the pages. After thoroughly inspecting each image at least twice, Spike lowered the magazine to his lap and sat in shocked silence; completely stunned that he had finally found out her name.
His mind wandered back to their steamy embrace damn near a year ago, as it often did when he was alone at night. Even after all this time, he could still remember and feel every sensation from those few precious moments when she had been on fire in his embrace. The images of her pinned against the cool metal door, panting and grasping for his touch, had Spike growing hard instantly. His cock pressed painfully against the zipper of his black denim jeans and throbbed with desire; looking down to find Buffy staring up at him from the magazine didn’t help his condition in the slightest.
A quick glance at the clock showed that he was already on the verge of being late to meet his friends for a drink, but Spike reasoned with himself and decided that he couldn’t very well show up at the bar with a raging hard on. He pushed off the couch, magazine clutched securely in his hand, and made his way down the hall into the bathroom. Spike laid the magazine on the bathroom counter, before lowering the zipper on his pants and releasing his engorged cock into his hand. Staring down at the cover of the magazine, her emerald green eyes stared back at him and he imagined that her plump pink lips were wrapped around his dick, instead of it being his own hand.
His thumb swirled around the head of his cock and swiped at the bead of moisture on the tip, before he slid his hand down to grab hold of the hardened shaft. Without tearing his gaze away from the scantily clad blonde on the cover of the magazine, his strokes became faster and his grip tighter as he sought out the release his body craved. He tightly gripped the edge of the counter with his other hand as his climax neared. A few more strokes and Spike roared as his release tore through him and he came directly on the shiny cover of the magazine…exactly where he hadn’t wanted to do so, but was unable to do anything about it at the moment.
Panting, Spike leaned forward to rest his forehead against the cool mirror; momentarily satisfied. When his heart rate started to slow and his breathing returned to a normal pace, Spike looked down and took notice of just how much damage he had done to the magazine and realized that it would just be easier to buy another copy, instead of trying to salvage the one that was now clearly ruined. He quickly cleaned himself up and shoved his momentarily satiated dick back in to his pants, Spike ripped the good splattered cover off the magazine and shoved only it into the wastebasket since the article inside wasn’t damaged.
With his desires dealt with for the time being, Spike headed out to meet up with his friends at the Hellmouth, one of the premiere clubs on the Strip. Sure, he was late, but he’d make up for it with a round of drinks when he got there.
The band was scheduled to play that night and, as usual, Buffy was running late. Having shown up at the club nearly half an hour behind schedule, she was thankful that Lorne had already hired someone to do her hair and makeup, and she had no doubt that Anya would do both in half the time it would have taken her to do it on her own. That was, of course, if Xander could control his hormones for five minutes and stop pestering the pretty waif while she curled Buffy’s hair. Although, judging by the faint pink tint to Anya’s cheeks, Buffy suspected that she wasn’t quite opposed to the flirting.
Buffy cut a glance at the clock on the wall and noticed that the were set to go on in half an hour and she was still decked out in rollers and an oversized button up shirt she had snagged out of Riley’s closet. Her nerves were starting to sneak up on her and it was evident in the way her foot was bouncing on the foot peg of the chair she was sitting in while Anya worked on plastering layers of makeup on her face.
“You’re tardiness annoys me,” The petite stylist stated bluntly, something that Buffy had yet to become accustomed to and often found herself on the receiving end of severely hurt feelings when around Anya. “The only excuse for being late is multiple orgasms, and you do not appear to have had any of those lately…or maybe a chance to make some money. That’s excusable, too. Orgasms and money, nothing else.”
“Well, unfortunately my super lateness wasn’t because of either reason. Although, I wouldn’t have minded being held up with an orgasm or twelve!” Buffy‘s cheeks blushed a fiery red and she couldn’t believe she’d said something that bold about sexual gratification, or the lack of it, to someone she barely knew. Stammering, she added, “I mean, you know, more orgasms can’t be a bad thing, right?”
“Is this Riley not sexually pleasing? That’s quite worrisome, Buffy, especially if you’re going to marry him. Orgasms should always be a priority, you know?” Anya bluntly asked, sending an even deeper red flush to spread all the way down Buffy’s neck and across her chest, which wasn’t entirely from embarrassment, but because she knew that what Anya had pointed out was true. Granted, her sex life with Riley had drastically improved since the first overly mediocre time, but Buffy still had to sneak away to the bathroom to take care of her own pleasure more than she’d like to admit.
Thankfully, the anxiety over her lackluster sex life was pushed aside when Lorne sashayed in to the dressing room in a flurry of chartreuse excitement. He stood in the center of the room and waited until all eyes were on him, before clapping his hands and enthusiastically announcing that it was show time.
Out in the crowd, and it was quite a large one, Spike scanned the swarm of writhing bodies until he located his friends; Wesley Wyndam-Price, his wife, Winnifred, and Charles Gunn in a booth on the edge of the stage. Weaving his way through the congested crowd, he briefly wondered what band was playing that would attract this many people, and cursed the throngs of bodies as he made his way over to Wes, Fred and Gunn. After several agonizingly annoying minutes, he finally managed to reach his destination and quickly slid into the vinyl covered booth to settle next to the lovely brunette, whose slender frame took up little to no space at all. “’Lo everyone.” He immediately glanced around until he spotted the waitress and flagged her over; ordering two rounds of drinks since the crowd was so thick and it would undoubtedly be difficult to get another once the show started. When the waitress disappeared, he shook out a cigarette from the half crumpled back in his shirt pocket, shoved the end into his mouth and asked, while lighting the tip, “So, who’s responsible for this large of a crowd?”
“Just my newest musical obsession! But, I’m sure you haven’t heard of them though, they’re not quite your type of music.” Fred answered quickly and Spike noted the sparkle in her eyes as she polished off the cranberry colored drink he had just ordered her another of and Spike wondered just how many she’d had already. “Serenity should be on in about ten minutes, give or take a few. You know how these things lack punctuality.”
The moment the band’s name slipped past Fred’s lips, Spike’s mouth gaped open in surprise for a moment, before he reeled in his lack of composure. What were the odds that out of all the places, he had miraculously found his way to Buffy? Swallowing, Spike tried to play it cool and calmly replied, “Um…yeah, weren’t they that band on the cover of Maxim? Haven’t heard any of their songs, but the birds are hot enough.”
“Man that was one hot cover!” Gunn exclaimed as a leer spread across his face. “Had me all sorts of bothered, if you know what I mean!” He grunted and rubbed his shoulder after Fred punched him and jokingly told him to behave; pointing out that they were all aware of his feelings for that girl.
Hearing that Gunn was sporting a hard-on for one of the girl’s in Serenity had Spike’s jealousy rearing its ugly green head, logic didn’t even bother to tell him that his friend could very well be attracted to the brunette, instead of his golden goddess. Spike reeled in his rising temper and asked with a clenched jaw, “Which girl? The blonde?”
“Nah, hell no! Don’t get me wrong, she ain’t hurting in the looks department, but I’m talking about that fine ass, Faith! That is one sexy ass woman!” Gunn announced, never noticing the ire that was rising in his friend, as he tipped back the bottle of nearly empty beer and chugged down the last bit of liquid.
Spike released the death grip he unknowingly had on the edge of the table as the wave of jealously retreated for the moment. How in the world had he allowed himself to get that worked up over a woman he didn’t even know? He shook his head in disbelief and lifted his hand to take a long drag off the half burnt cigarette he’d barely shown any attention to just as the lights in the club started to dim.
On the darkened stage, settled behind the microphone, Buffy waited patiently for the music and her cue to start singing. They had never played in this particular club and she liked that it seemed darker than the others they had performed in, the low light soothed her pre-show jitters considerably since she couldn’t see much of anything past the edge of the stage.
Swaying with the beat of the music, she tapped a finger against her thigh and when it was time, Buffy took a deep breath and began to sing the song that had rocketed them straight into the limelight, the title track from their album, Taking Over Me. ”You don’t remember me, but I remember you…I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you…But who can decide what they dream? And, dream I do.”
”I believe in you…I’ll give up everything just to find you…I have to be with you to live, to breathe…You’re taking over me.” She loved performing this particular song, the first one she had shown her bandmates, the one she had written late at night after dreaming about the man who’d made her feel more in one passionate embrace than anyone else had ever made her feel. With all of her heart, Buffy poured every drop of passion, of need and of desire in to the song. ”I believe in you…I’ll give up everything just to find you…I have to be with you to live, to breathe…You’re taking over me.”
”I look in the mirror and see your face…If I look deep enough….So many things inside that are just like you are taking over.” Spike watched her intently, mesmerized by her every move. Her sultry voice filled the room and wrapped him in its warm embrace. Everything around him faded away and he felt as though she was singing only to him, as though each word in the song was meant solely for him. ”Taking over me…You’re taking over me…Taking over me…Taking over me.”
The last notes of the song faded away to nothing and yet, she continued to sway to music that was no longer there; eyes closed and a look of pure rapture on her beautiful face. In that moment, Spike had never felt as utterly obsessed with another person as he did with Buffy Summers and wanted nothing more than to have her all to himself.
She would be his and he would have her.