Chapter Ten
When it became apparent that Spike was not going to wake up anytime soon, Giles suggested they get some sleep so as to be up early in the morning to prepare for what might come next. Buffy nodded reluctantly, politely refusing his offer of his guest room and insisting she was going to stay where she could see what was going on with Spike.
They both peered closely at the vampire’s wounds, Giles agreeing with Buffy that she should cut off the tattered shirt and clean the ones they could see so that they could tell if the vampire was beginning to heal himself. He held the surprisingly small vampire up while she cut off the shirt and quickly inspected the wounds and bruises. In addition to the arm, which Giles felt sure was dislocated rather than broken, Spike had a gaping hole in his throat where one of the other vampires had clearly bitten him. He was covered in gouges that Buffy felt confident had come from Drusilla’s lethal-looking nails, as well as other bites and the hole in his side which looked like it might be from some sort of pole.
The wounds had long since stopped bleeding; probably, Giles told her quietly, because the vampire had little or no borrowed blood left in his body, and they did not appear to be healing at all. Buffy agreed to the watcher’s suggestion that they snap the shoulder back into place while Spike was mercifully unconscious. The satisfying “pop” as it went back into its socket brought a low moan from the still oblivious vamp and, in spite of her regret at having hurt him, Buffy felt a jolt of happiness at this sign of life in the otherwise dead body lying on the couch.
They stepped back and looked at the corpse in front of them, Buffy’s worried face reflecting her more-than-casual concern for the blond vamp.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?’ she asked anxiously for the third time since they’d begun to work on him.
“I can’t answer that, Buffy,” her watcher said kindly. “As far as I know, an injured vampire can always heal as long as he is not dust. How long it takes may well be dependent upon the care and…feeding…he gets.”
“He had to get sire’s blood for Drusilla to heal her,” Buffy said quietly. “Maybe that would help him.”
She turned and walked toward the door, picking up her stake and the large cross as she did so.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Giles’ voice was almost a shriek as her purpose became obvious.
“I’m going to get that bitch and drag her back here by her messy hair,” Buffy said flatly. “And then I’m going to feed her to Spike until he doesn’t want any more of her disgusting blood.”
“You cannot be thinking of going after that lunatic by yourself. I forbid it.”
She looked at her the man who was rapidly becoming a surrogate father to her and said coldly, “Isn’t it your job to send me out there? This vampire is much more dangerous than the fledglings I slay every night. She needs to be—“
“Buffy.” The weak croak from the couch erased the stubborn, hard look on her face, replacing it with one of concern and hope.
“Spike?” She ran back to the couch, kneeling beside it where she could look into his eyes.
“Watcher’s right, pet. You’re not up to taking on a healthy Dru; not on her own terms and with the poof to back her up. She’s got a really strong thrall; might take you right out without even touching you. Don’t want you goin’ after them until I’m able to help you.”
“Which part of I am the Slayer are you two not getting here?” She glared back and forth from her watcher’s concerned face to the equally worried one inches away from hers. She tried to ignore the truth in what he was saying about the thrall. “This is what I do. It’s what I’m made for. Slaying monsters.”
Spike’s mouth twitched slightly and he whispered, “And you will, luv. I promise. Just not tonight, alright?”
“You need her blood,” she insisted stubbornly. “You can’t help me like this.”
“I’ll heal, Slayer. It might take a few days, but soon as I get some blood in me, I’ll start healing. Ole Angelus is too weak from fighting me and feeding Dru to be much of a danger for a couple of days; he’s not in a whole lot better shape than I am.”
“That would, no doubt, be why he remained safely away from Buffy when we were outside.”
Spike nodded weakly. “He’s in no shape to take on a Slayer. He’ll be lucky to be able to feed himself.”
In the face of the opposition from the two men in the room, and the fact that Spike seemed to be marginally stronger than before, Buffy reluctantly agreed to wait before going after Angelus and Drusilla. As soon as he was sure she wasn’t planning to go out on her own, Spike allowed his eyes to drift closed again, smiling slightly when Buffy touched them gently with her fingertips.
Once he was assured that Buffy did not intend to go out after Drusilla, Giles excused himself and went to bed where he soon fell into an exhausted slumber that was full of dreams of Angelus rampaging through Sunnydale.
Buffy remained on the floor beside the couch for quite a while, reluctant to move too far away from the once again dead-seeming vampire. She turned off the lights and rested her head against the cushion, determined to remain where she wouldn’t miss any change in Spike’s condition. Taking advantage of his unconsciousness, she studied his beautiful human features while he couldn’t see her doing so. When she had completely familiarized herself with his long lashes, prominent cheekbones, and the full soft mouth only inches from her own, she raised her head and looked at his partially exposed chest.
She squirmed a little at her reaction when she remembered what he’d looked like after they cut his shirt off. Even with the wounds and bruises all over his torso, it had been obvious that William had grown up into a very well-built man. She glanced down the lean body that was concealed by the blanket she’d placed over him and wondered briefly what the rest of him looked like.
Telling herself she was only checking for overlooked wounds, she carefully peeled back the blanket and ran her eyes down his torso to his denim-clad lower body. His flat abdomen, visible above the low-cut jeans, drew her attention until she noticed the blood-caked tear in his jeans. With a guilty gasp, she pulled back the edges of the ripped material to find what appeared to be knife wound in his upper thigh.
She was unable to see the whole wound as the fabric seemed insistent upon falling back over it and frustration made her growl low in her throat as she tried to get at the cut. Finally deciding she could probably get at it better from above, she reached a timid hand toward the waistband of his jeans, unconsciously holding her breath as she popped the snap and reached for the zipper.
She had just eased the zipper down and slipped her warm hand into the jeans, trying to push them away from the knife wound, when a rumbling purr caused her to jump. A quick glance at his face showed no signs of consciousness and she worried at her lip with her teeth while she debated what to do. She clearly was not going to be able to reach the wound from that direction either; not without pulling his pants completely off his hips and thighs.
Buffy could not bring herself to remove the jeans completely, particularly in light of the fact that she saw no trace of underwear either below or above the wound. Reaching for the scissors that she’d used to cut off his bloody shirt, she was just inserting them into the rip when Spike’s warm voice washed over her.
“If you want to get my pants off, luv, you know all you have to do is ask.”
Blushing furiously, Buffy quickly took her hands away from his cool flesh and put them behind her back.
“I was just…you have a cut…I wanted to…I thought you were out of it!” she finished defensively,
“Gonna take advantage of me while I’m unconscious, were you? Pretty kinky, Slayer,” he whispered, a choked laugh escaping his chest when she continued to blush and stammer.
He stopped laughing when she dropped her head and whispered, “I’m sorry. I WAS peeking. But then I saw that wound, and I couldn’t get at it to see how bad it was, and I thought maybe if I –“
Taking pity on her, he painfully lifted one hand far enough to touch hers and bring it back to his leg.
“I’m only teasing you, luv,” he said softly. “I know you’re tryin’ to take care of me. An’ I appreciate it. I do. But putting that hot little hand in my pants is just going to make me WISH I was stronger, not make it happen.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t think it would wake you up. I just wanted to clean that wound too.”
“I’m just dead, Buffy, not buried,” he said, his voice getting weaker. “There’s no way having your hand that close to my dangly bits wasn’t going to wake me up. Jus’ give us a minute here and I’ll show you…”
His voice trailed off as he exhausted what little strength he’d had left. Buffy got a clean cloth and washed the wound as best she could without actually taking his pants off, carefully keeping her hands and eyes away from the soft curls trailing down his stomach and disappearing into his jeans. To avoid that area, she worked blindly with her hand inside the ripped denim, taking great care not to let it wander too close to the inside of his thigh. When she’d cleaned the cut - which she now realized had been aimed at his femoral artery - and placed a large piece of gauze over it, she taped the gauze to his leg, blushing again as she reached cautiously around the inside of his thigh to press the tape against his skin.
Thanking the powers that she hadn’t accidentally run into anything she hadn’t been planning to touch, she tugged his jeans back together and pulled the zipper back up, leaving the snap open . She breathed a sigh of relief when she had the blanket back in place, covering both the wounded leg and the exposed chest that kept drawing her eyes and making her want to run her hands over it.
She cast another worried look at his immobile face before laying her own head down next to his shoulder and allowing herself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
When Giles stumbled sleepily downstairs the next morning, he found Buffy curled up on the floor beside his couch, her head pillowed on one of the cushions and Spike’s leather coat wrapped around her. He tiptoed quietly past his sleeping guests and into the kitchen to make coffee. When neither of them had stirred by the time he had finished his coffee and dressed for the day, he stopped to study the vampire’s ashen face.
In spite of his confident words to Buffy, he actually wasn’t sure if Spike was going to recover or not. He’d never seen a completely drained vampire before, but he’d been told they just sort of shriveled up – stuck in a sort of limbo between being animated and being dust. While Spike did not appear to be quite that dehydrated, he certainly did not look like he was going to be back on his feet anytime soon.
Leaving Buffy to her rest, the watcher left the house and drove to the butcher’s for blood for his unusual houseguest. His instincts told him that the vampire needed human blood in order to heal properly, but he could think of no way to get it without stealing from the hospital. On sudden impulse, however, he swung by Willie’s, catching the bar owner cleaning out the debris from the night before.
It only took a few moments of bringing out his inner Ripper to convince the man that providing Giles with several packages of human blood would be in his best interest, and the tweedy Brit drove away quite satisfied with himself. It wasn’t often that the normally mild watcher had reason or opportunity to indulge his long-suppressed darker side and he decided he quite enjoyed the change. Determining that getting Spike healed quickly would be the best way to get Buffy’s attention back on Angelus, he drove straight home and carried his cooler full of vampire food into the apartment.
He found Buffy frowning worriedly at the immobile vampire, her face a study in conflicted emotions. She turned when he came in and ran to take the cooler from him, talking rapidly about how Spike had awakened for a few minutes but then had fallen unconscious again and not moved or spoken since.
Leaving Buffy to attempt to get the blood into the oblivious vampire, Giles left again to check on Xander and Willow and be sure that every place Angel had been welcome was now closed to Angelus.
Buffy stood uncertainly by the couch, confused about how to get the blood from the bag she was holding into the vampire who was still unconscious. Knowing that Angel had preferred his blood at body temperature, she carried the cold packet into the kitchen and poured it into a mug, which she then placed in the microwave.
She carried the warmed blood back into the room and knelt down beside the vampire, dipping her finger into the warm blood and rubbing it gently over his soft lips. When that didn’t work, she dipped in again and this time she inserted her finger into his mouth until she could feel his tongue. When he began to suck on her bloody finger, she gave a squeal of joy and quickly stuck the straw in his mouth. She smiled when he made a little mewing sound of protest as she withdrew her finger and substituted the straw, but was gratified to see him continue to suck up the life-giving liquid in the mug.
When the cup was empty, she quickly took it to the kitchen and refilled it, rushing back to the still-immobile vampire and offering the straw again. He fastened his lips around it, draining the cup quickly and lying back with a sigh. When she went to get up to refill it again, he put a hand on her arm and said weakly, “Wait for a second, luv. Need to be sure I can keep it down before we go filling me up too much.
“Anyway,” he added, meeting her eyes with a wink, “I’d rather be sucking it off your pretty little finger than out of that piece of plastic.”
Buffy ran her finger around the inside of the cup, collecting what little had not gone up through the straw. She held her finger out with a challenging grin, only to have the grin wiped off her face when the vampire grabbed her finger and began to suckle it in earnest, running his tongue around it while he pulled the already clean finger further into his mouth. His eyes gleamed as Buffy’s breath hitched, her lips parting with the unanticipated gasp.
She felt the effects of his sensual suckling on her finger all the way down to her womb and she whimpered softly when he let it slide out of his mouth with a small “plop”. She stared at him, her eyes wide and her breathing fast and heavy as he lay back down with a satisfied smile on his lips.
“Now that’s the way to feed me, Slayer,” he sighed as he rested and felt the borrowed blood being soaked up by his thirsty body.
“Do-“ Buffy’s voice was a squeak and she took a deep breath and tried again, “Do you want more now? I only have one more bag of human blood,” she added apologetically. “But there’s lots of pig blood too.”
“One more bag, if you don’t mind, luv. Then let’s just see what happens, yeah?”
Buffy scampered back to the kitchen and warmed up the last bag of O negative. As she carried it back into the living room, she studied the vampire to see if she could see any improvement, but to her eye he was still just as cut up and bruised as before. She sat down on the edge of the couch and waited for Spike to take the cup from her, rightly concluding that he was strong enough to hold it himself. With a wince, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, allowing the blanket to slip down to his hips as he took the cup from her.
“Not going to feed me, then, luv?” he smirked, watching her eyes running over his chest and stomach. He could hear her heartbeat increase, but the eyes she raised to his were more worried than lustful.
“Why aren’t you healing?” she asked softly, reaching out to touch the wound on his neck with a tentative hand.
He set the cup down carefully and took her hand in both of his.
“Buffy, I was about out of blood. Your bloody wanker of an ex…” He paused and looked at her fiercely. “He IS your ex now, isn’t he?” he growled.
She nodded quickly and he relaxed and finished his thought. “Your bloody wanker of an ex and MY bloody bitch of an ex, they did a real number on me. Deliberately. Dru wouldn’t let him kill me, but they did their best to make sure I wouldn’t be able to interfere with their plans or to warn you. They drained me, pet. Until I’ve got a body’s worth of blood in me, there won’t be any available for fast healing.”
“What if I drag Drusilla back her by stupid-looking dress and you drink from her? That would fix you up, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, luv, it probably would, but now we’re back to not wanting you to take them on unless I’m there to help you. Kind of a Catch-22, innit?”
“Catch who?”
He grinned at her puzzled look. “Nevermind, pet. Great book. I’ll get it for you someday. Point is, you can’t go get her without me, and I can’t get better that fast without her.”
“There’s another way…” Buffy didn’t look at him as she whispered the words. She twisted the blanket around between her fingers, trying to control the way her heart was pounding. He cocked his head at her curiously.
“No, pet. That’s pretty much it. Sire’s blood. Anything else wouldn’t—“ He stopped when she raised her eyes to his and let him see what she was thinking. “Oh. Oh no, Buffy. Not a good idea, luv.”
“Angel said it would have worked for Drusilla, so why wouldn’t it work for you? Wouldn’t my blood heal you almost as fast as hers?”
“Faster,” he said shortly. “But you’d be a fool to do that, Slayer. Your blood, it’s…let’s just say it’s one hell of an energy boost. You don’t want to be making a vamp that powerful, luv.”
“Why not?” She cocked her head, unconsciously imitating his own gesture. “I’m not volunteering to do that for any vampire, just for you.”
Her look of genuine innocence about what she was offering touched him in a way that nothing had in over a hundred years. Even as his mouth watered at the thought of tasting Slayer blood again after so many years, he fought off the craving and tried to reason with her.
“Slayer…Buffy…you really don’t wa—“
“Stop telling me what I want!” She would have stamped her foot if she’d not been sitting down. As it was, she settled for sticking her lower lip out in a pout and poking him with her finger.
His face held a look of reverence and awe similar to the one he’d had when he was a child and he reached toward her face with a trembling hand.
“You are amazing,” he breathed, leaning toward her mouth and its still protruding lip. When his lips touched hers and he sucked the lower one into his mouth gently, she exhaled with a moan and leaned into him; her movement causing the vampire to gasp in pain as her weight came down on his wounded leg.
Buffy jumped back with a stuttered apology, only to be held by a hand still barely strong enough to hang on to her. Spike shifted onto his side and pulled her down to lie beside him on the narrow couch so that he could look into her eyes as he spoke.
“I am not William, Buffy. I’m not a child, I’m not helpless, and I’m not human. I’m a vampire who has killed two of your sister slayers and, if you weren’t who you are, would have probably killed you by now. I want to taste you so badly it makes me ache, but I don’t think you’ve thought this through and I don’t want you doing something you will hate me for later.”
“Do you want to see Angelus and Drusilla kill me? Because you’re telling me that’s what’s going to happen if I take them on without your help.”
“So you wait for my help.”
Buffy sighed and rested her forehead against an uninjured spot on his chest. “Spike, I’m the Slayer. Girl who slays the monsters, remember? And right now there are two monsters free in my town. They want to kill me. They want to kill my friends and family.” She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “I can’t wait for you to get strong again. If you can’t come with me, I’ll have to try it on my own.”
“That’s blackmail, Slayer. It’s bloody cheating!”
Buffy looked into his indignant eyes and smiled sweetly. “It’s not cheating if someone’s trying to kill you,” she purred. “And you know Angelus is trying to kill me.”
He rolled his eyes at her familiar rationalization. “I might kill you, luv.”
“No you won’t. You told me yourself, vampires don’t have to kill humans when they bite them. I trust you, William. You won’t take too much,” she breathed moving closer to his hovering mouth. “I trust you.”
With a groan of acquiescence, he met her offered lips with his own, allowing the world that contained his sire and grandsire to slip away while he kissed the pretty girl who trusted him. Once again, Buffy lost herself in the pure sensual pleasure of kissing the weakened vampire. Her frustration built up quickly as she tried to get closer to him without putting pressure on his still-open wounds. The fact that the wounds could remain open and still not bleed was proof that his supply of borrowed blood was still not what it needed to be and she struggled to keep her mind on healing the body she wanted so badly to be touching.
Wrenching her lips away from his, she stretched her neck out and breathed, “Do it, William. Take what you need from me.”
Soft lips touched the offered throat and he ran his tongue over her pulse point, sucking on it gently and causing them both to moan softly. Then, to Buffy’s surprise, he kissed her throat lightly and pulled away from her. Before she could protest what she saw as another rejection of her offer, he had picked up her arm, using his nose to push up her sleeve until his lips were pressed against the soft skin on the inside of her elbow. He gently sucked on the exposed area, then, before she realized what he was doing, he slid his fangs in and made two small holes over the vein.
He took his fangs out carefully and fastening his lips on her skin he began to take deep, slow pulls that Buffy could feel throughout her entire, suddenly limp, body. She moaned deep in her throat as she felt her warm blood flowing from her arm into his caressing mouth. Spike was making a soft purring sound as he drew just enough of her blood to feel its magical properties affecting his body. Long before he would have felt her heartbeat falter, or her body weaken at all, he stopped sucking and carefully licked the tiny wounds closed, leaving a soft, open-mouthed kiss on her arm and trailing light kisses down the arm to her hand. He left one lingering kiss on her palm, tickling it with his tongue and causing her to giggle, before raising his head and looking at her through eyes that shone with gratitude and renewed strength.
“That was a very foolish thing to do, Buffy,” he growled, even as he pulled her in for another lingering kiss that quickly threatened to turn into something more. “Do you have any idea how powerful I feel right now?” He pulled her against his visibly healing body, allowing her to feel the hard length of him pressing into her stomach.
She didn’t answer, being much too busy melting into his lean hardness and giving herself up to the sensations the vampire was creating with his lips and tongue. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a little voice was screaming that she was on the couch in her Watcher’s living room in broad daylight, but it was easily drowned out by her libido’s clamoring for more Spike kisses and more Spike touching.
In a repeat of the first night they’d met, she opened her thighs and allowed the hard bulge she was feeling to slide between them. She felt him shiver all over as it pressed against her suddenly damp crotch, stimulating a whimper in her throat. He rolled over on his back, pulling her with him so that she was lying on top and unconsciously rubbing her throbbing clit against him.
Growling softly, he put his hands on her hips and pushed her down against his aching cock. The heat from her body was making him so hard he was sure all the blood he’d consumed that morning had gone to the same place.
The voice in Spike’s head reminding him that he was lying in her Watcher’s living room and that the man would undoubtedly throw him out the door into the bright sunlight if he walked in and found Spike shagging his seventeen-year-old charge was somewhat more insistent than Buffy’s. No matter how impulsive he might be, Spike had not survived to become a master vampire by being stupid. As much as he wanted to show her exactly how strong her blood had made him, he managed to fight down the impulse to rip off her clothes and take her virginity right there where anyone could walk in on them.
Instead, he rotated his hips so as to continue the pressure against Buffy’s center, waiting until she was whimpering with frustrated desire before sliding a hand between them. When his cool fingers slid under her waistband and into her wet folds and he began to stroke places she hadn’t known wanted stroking, her whimpers changed to panting cries and incoherent gasping. Within a very short period of time, she was arching against his hand, her head thrown back and her eyes closed in ecstasy.
The Slayer collapsed onto his chest, still trembling slightly from her first orgasm. He pulled his hand out of her jeans and brought it to his lips, thoroughly licking her juices off each finger before putting both arms around her and nuzzling her hair.
“You alright, luv?” he queried when she didn’t say anything. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She shook her head vigorously, but kept her face buried in his chest until the heat from her blushing face gave him an idea what was going on. He rolled them back to the side so that she was facing him again and tipped her chin up until she was forced to meet his eyes. She tried to twist away, her face a contrast in embarrassment and contentment.
“What’s this, then?” he asked softly.
“I…you…we…I…you…I never…what did you…Oh my god!”
“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” he chuckled. “Did you know that?”
“Well, no, because I don’t think I’ve ever been quite that…embarrassed before.” She continued to be bright red and to look around everywhere except at him.
“You’ve never…? Oh, my poor, neglected baby. If you were mine, I’d make you come a dozen times a day – just to watch the expression on your face when you do.”
His remark reminded her that she had just had one of the most incredible experiences of her young life with someone who was almost a stranger, as well as one of the creatures she had been chosen to slay whenever possible.
“Well, I’m not though, am I?” she mumbled, reluctantly pushing away from him and sitting up. She was still unwilling to meet his eyes and therefore missed the pain that flickered across his face at her words.
“No, love, I suppose you aren’t,” he answered, sitting up also and swinging his legs to the floor.
She shot a quick look at him, amazed to see that most of his cuts and bruises were either already healed or well on their way. The huge rip in his neck was still raw and oozing, but even it was looking better. She dropped her eyes to his thigh, hoping to see that the wound there was also healing, but instead she was met with the unmistakable sight of a large bulge in his pants.
At the same time, the vampire squirmed and tried to unobtrusively shift his swollen cock into a more comfortable position, thereby drawing even more attention to it. Buffy’s gasp told him she’d noticed what he was trying to do and he grinned ruefully.
“Between your blood and having your hot little body on me like that, it’s gonna be a while before that goes away. Sorry, pet. Not much I can do about it right now. Not with you here, anyway.”
“What would you do if I—oh!” Again Buffy turned the color of the large red easy chair as she realized what he meant. She eyed the bulge again, noticing how it was pushing against the fabric of his jeans.
“It…it doesn’t look very comfortable,” she ventured, surprising herself with a sudden urge to touch him. She snatched her hand back just as her disobedient fingers were about to stroke the demin-covered object.
“It’s just a little…confined…right now,” he whispered, having seen the way her eyes were glued to his crotch and the way her hand had twitched as though drawn to it. “If I could just…” He reached for the zipper on his jeans, watching carefully for any sign that he was frightening her, but she was watching avidly, her mouth open slightly and her breathing growing faster.
His suddenly clumsy hands fumbled with the zipper, and without thought Buffy extended her own hand and pulled the zipper down easily. With a sigh of relief, Spike flopped back on the couch, his now freed cock sticking up from its nest of brown curls. Buffy’s hand was still holding the tab of the zipper and she was pulled forward when the vampire fell backwards.
Her fingers were only fractions of an inch away from the base – close enough that the heat from her hand was more than apparent to Spike. He fought back a groan, holding an unnecessary breath as he waited to see what she would do. When she reached out a tentative hand and lightly ran it up to the head of his cock, he shivered and groaned with suppressed desire.
“I want…” Buffy wrapped her hand around him, eliciting another heartfelt groan. “I…I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“You’re touchin’ me, love. That’s more than I ever would have hoped for. Feeling your hot little hand on me, your breath blowing over my…’S heaven, Buffy.”
“That’s not what you’d be doing for yourself if I wasn’t here,” she insisted stubbornly. “What would you be doing?”
He opened one eye and cocked his head at her. “I’d be giving myself a good wank, love, and pretending it was you the whole time.”
“Show me.” The tone of command brooked no argument and he smiled his assent.
Spike covered her small hand with his own calloused one and squeezed gently. He then began to slide her hand up and down his shaft, squeezing on the way up and sliding loosely down each time.
“Like that, pet. Just like that. I’d be pulling away on m’ poor aching cock and trying to convince myself I was in your sweet little cunny…would be thinking about you, about your soft lips, your perfect little breasts…your warm mouth…--“
“You don’t know what my breasts look like!” she broke the rhythm to protest.
He grimaced and pushed into her temporarily stilled hand. “Work with me here, Slayer. I’ve got a good imagination – know they’re perfect.” His voice changed and grew softer and warmer. “Got to be perfect. Jus’ like the rest of you…”
“Oh,” Buffy breathed out softly, resuming her strong, steady stroking. “Ok, then.”
With Spike’s verbal encouragement, she began to experiment with different pressures, pausing to run her thumb around the tip and collect some pre-cum to provide more lubrication and exerting some of her Slayer strength as she began to pump harder and faster.
“Yes, oh, yes, baby. Like that, love. Squeeze me harder, pull for me, darlin’. Make me….Buffy!”
As he shouted her name, Spike grabbed his torn shirt from the floor and covered her hand and his cock, effectively preventing any hard-to-explain stains on the Watcher’s furniture. While he took some unneeded breaths and tried to calm down, he peered at the Slayer and saw her looking back at him with what could only be called a look of accomplishment on her face.
“Pretty proud of yourself, are you, love?” He smiled at her obvious self-satisfaction.
“Yep!” she replied happily, then doubt crossed her face and she asked tentatively, “I…it was okay, wasn’t it? I did it right?”
“Bloody hell, pet! If you’d been any more right, I’d have scared the neighbors!” He pulled her against his chest, planting soft kisses all over her face until the doubt went away and she was smiling shyly.
“Oh, good. I wanted it to be good.” She blushed and started to pull away, but he held fast and nudged at her face until she looked up into his worshipful eyes.
“You touched me, pet. You let me touch you. Let me give you pleasure and then you gave it back. Couldn’t have been anything but good. Something for me to remember on cold nights when I’ve got no warm Slayer nearby. I’ll never forget it, love. Never.”
Embarrassed by his avowal, she squirmed loose and said quickly, “We need to get some more blood into you.” She looked at him speculatively and added with an embarrassed giggle, “And we need to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face before Giles gets home.”
He laughed at her, stretching his arms over his head and flexing newly restored muscles. “Oh I don’t think this grin’s going anywhere anytime soon, love. When you put a smile on a man’s face, you tend to make it kind of permanent.”
She blushed at his praise, wondering why she wasn’t more ashamed of being complimented on her “wanking” skills. Picking up his wet, bloody shirt, she carried it to the kitchen trash can and shoved it down to the bottom, hoping Giles wasn’t in the habit of looking closely at what he threw away. She pulled her sleeve down over the two little holes on her arm, rubbing them absently before she did so.
She caught Spike watching her rub the bites and smiled reassuringly as his brow furrowed.
“Do they hurt, pet?” She could hear the anxiety in his voice and hastened to reassure him.
“No, they didn’t hurt at all…and they don’t hurt now. I was just…touching them.”
He stood up and came toward her, giving her a mouth-watering look at his scarred, but no longer cut up, torso.
“Shirt!” she squeaked. “You need to put on a shirt. Now. Before Giles gets home.”
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