May 1997
Buffy reached over and slapped the blaring alarm clock off. Her eyes remained closed as she slowly willed herself awake. The bed was still devoid of the man she longed for. God, she missed him. It was lonely without him.
A smile slowly graced her face and her eyes opened. Today, Will was coming home from the promos he’d been gone so long doing.
He’d been gone over two weeks. Seventeen days, to be exact. She thought it was difficult when he had gone to New York to meet Clive Davis. But, no, this was torture. Of course, she was able to hear one of his radio interviews, even if that wasn’t enough. She remembered squealing like a little girl when she heard his voice. Of course, the other students who had been nearby looked at her oddly. But she hadn’t cared. Her husband was on the radio.
She threw off the covers and sat up in bed. William would be returning tonight. He told her that much last night when she spoke to him on the phone before going to bed.
And she wanted to make his return home something special. Something he’d remember.
Spike breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped the key into the lock. Finally, after seventeen days, he was finally home. He loved the job; there was no doubt of that, but it was hard. Stressful.
Not at all like the laid-back casual career so many people envisioned. Being a musician, Spike decided, was probably one of, if not the most difficult jobs in the entertainment industry.
Actors only needed to show up at the same studios or locations everyday and go home the same night. Writers only had to sit at their computers, write their novel and then sit back as others rushed to get it published.
Musicians…they had to physically get themselves to various locations across the country, across the world. They had to show up to the concerts. They had to spent countless nights sleeping in unfamiliar hotel beds, miles from home. Hundreds…even thousands of miles from those they loved. Not to mention suffer the dreaded jetlag.
But, Spike decided, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Especially since, unlike so many others, he had someone to go home to. Someone who stood by him, supported his decisions, even if it meant days without him.
It made it all the more worthwhile.
He pushed the door open and bent down to pick up his suitcase. He entered the apartment and immediately, a grin graced his face.
Buffy had been busy.
The lights of the apartment were dimmed. Candles were lit all over their home.
And she was on the sofa, her lithe form encased in the most tantalizing outfit. His eyes raked her form. Blood red high heel pumps adorned her tiny feet. Matching stockings covered her legs. Continuing upward, Spike groaned as he took in her red thong and bustier.
Buffy watched him quietly as he looked at her, nervously. She didn’t usually go for the sex kitten look. And she most definitely wasn’t usually the one who did the seducing. So, yeah, she was nervous. “Will?”
He snapped out of his daze and his eyes locked with hers, “Not that I’m complainin,’ love, but wha’ brought this on?”
She stood up and moved towards him, giving a small shrug, “I don’t know. I missed you. I wanted to do something for you. Something special.”
He nodded quickly, “You’re definitely doin’ something’ for me, pet.” He reached down and tried to surreptitiously adjusted himself. She noticed and a smile graced her lips.
“I noticed.” Her hands reached up and cupped his face. As her lips grazed his teasingly, she whispered, “Do you like it?”
“God, yes,” he moaned, wrapping his arms around her and covering his mouth with his.
She moaned as her lips parted, inviting him in. He took the invitation and deepened the kiss. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer. He caught the backs of her thighs as she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, supporting her. He released a groan as she grinded herself against him.
Neither was conscious of how or when, but somehow Spike managed to maneuver them to their bedroom. Buffy squealed when he unceremoniously dropped her on the bed. But a moan overtook her as he covered her body with his, resuming where he had left off, his lips returning to hers.
Spike’s hands were incapable of staying still as they skirted across her body, drawing out mewls of pleasure. Buffy broke the kiss briefly to pull his shirt off. Spike’s lips journeyed down her jaw to her neck and to her collarbones. His hands reached up and massaged her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bustier. Buffy threw her head back and let out a whimper.
“Oh, how I missed that sound,” Spike whispered, capturing a fabric-encased nipple with his lips.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, squirming in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pressure slowly building within her.
Spike’s hands searched desperately for the clasps of her bustier and he let out a growl of frustration when he couldn’t undo them. Without words, Buffy’s fingers reached the closure and deftly undid it. Spike removed the bustier and tossed it aside, not paying any mind where it landed. With her breasts now free, his mouth latched onto one nipple, rolling it with his tongue as his hand played with the neglected one.
Buffy whimpered and thrust her hips into Spike’s, emitting a groan from him.
“Will,” she whimpered. “God, I need you.” Her hands danced across his chest, drawing random patterns on their way downward. She gripped him through his jeans, causing him to throw his head back, groaning.
“Oh, love,” he whispered, returning to her mouth. As he kissed her, his free hand moved down, pushing her thong aside. She moaned and tightened her grip slightly on his cock as his fingers caressed her wetness.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, her hands moving to his belt, and swiftly undoing it. She made quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans, too.
“Christ, you’re so wet, pet. I need you,” he moaned.
“Then help me,” she cried, as she tried to push his jeans down.
Spike quickly stood up, shed his jeans and shoes before reaching for her thong, divesting her of that. He returned to his place on top of her and groaned as she took hold of him, positioning him at her entrance. He wasted no time sliding it, causing them both to moan in pleasure. Buffy’s legs came up to wrap around his lower back, pulling him further in.
He kissed her again as he began to thrust in and out. Buffy gave little whimpers with every thrust and moved her hips to meet his every downward stroke. He broke the kiss to pant harshly, resting his forehead in the crook of her shoulder, his movements becoming faster and faster. Buffy’s hands ran down his back, settling on his hips, pulling him closer, deeper.
It wasn’t long until they both came, overwhelmed with their desire. Spike collapsed on her, spent and panting heavily.
Buffy turned her head to look at him, his face buried in her neck, “Welcome home.”
He looked at her, grinning, “Best ‘welcome ‘ome’ I ever got.”
END CHAPTER FOURTEEN