Over and Done With
Author: Pattyanne
Rating NC-17
Part 2...
Buffy went upstairs, while Spike locked up
and turned off the lights. From force of habit,
she peeked into Dawn's room before she remem-
bered that she was at a sleepover party with
nine of her school mates.
"She's fine," Spike said, slipping his arms
around her waist and kissing the side of her neck.
"I know." Even though her showdown with Glory
had been over months ago, Buffy still fretted whenever
Dawnie was away from home, and she had to make
a conscious effort not to smother her with too much
over protection.
Turning in Spike's arms, she smiled at him. "We
have the whole house to ourselves, so we can be
as noisy as we want."
"WE?" He laughed. "You're the one who screams
bloody murder when you..."
"Oh, look who's talking," she interrupted. "The guy
who was shouting, "Baby...I'm gonna come...take it,
baby...take it!" so loud that the neighbors threatened
to call the cops. That WAS you, wasn't it?"
"It BETTER have been me, love, or we have a
serious problem." He bent down and swept her up
in his arms, carrying her down the hall and into their
bedroom.
Setting her on her feet, he gave her a quick kiss,
then pulled away. "Don't run off."
"Where are you going?"
"Just down to the kitchen. I'll be back sooner than
trouble."
"Why? What's in the kitchen?"
"Don't be so nosy, little girl," he scolded.
Buffy sighed as he left the room, then kicked
off her shoes and dropped her jacket over the
back of the rocking chair. She sat on the bed and
waited, looking around the recently redecorated
room and smiling with satisfaction.
After Willow and Tara had moved into their own
home, she and Dawn had decided to ask Spike
to come and live with them. Her sister had been
happy to move into Buffy's old room, which was
bigger than hers, and then they had redone the
master bedroom.
They repainted it and hung new curtains. Buffy had
kept her mothers oak armoire and chest of drawers,
and the antique rocking chair. She had added a
couple of small over stuffed arm chairs by the window,
and had then gone shopping for a new bed.
She found a king size, with a beautful brass head
and foot board, then bought three new sets of sheets,
and a white eyelet lace cover, with a matching dust
ruffle.
The bed was decidedly feminine looking, and she had
worried that perhaps Spike wouldn't feel comfortable
in it. But he had assured her that as long as she was
in the bed with him, he didn't much care what it looked
like.
She was glad now that she had decided not to sell
the house. Her mother's mortgage insurance had paid
it off, but she had been afraid that the memories would
be too painful for her and Dawn.
They had spent a long time talking it over before deciding
that the good memories outweighed the bad ones. Willow
and Tara had moved out, and Spike had moved in, first into
Dawn's old room, then into the main bedroom with Buffy.
Their father was sending a generous check every month,
and between that, their mom's life insurance and social
security payments for Dawn, and the money she was being
paid by the council, they were managing very well.
With that particular problem off her mind, Buffy was
able to concentrate on her slaying duties, and had thrown
herself into them with a renewed passion, determined to
never let another demon get the upper hand with her again.
She went out nearly every night, sometimes with her
friends, but always with Spike beside her, and the word
spread quickly through the demon grapevine that the slayer
was back and was better than ever.
"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" Spike's voice
interrupted her thoughts, and she smiled when he walked
through the room carrying a bottle of champagne and two
glasses.
"Oh yummy...my favorite," Buffy said, clapping her hands
with delight.
"Yeah, well...take it easy, lightweight." He pulled the cork
and poured two glasses, then set the bottle on the night
stand. Stretching out beside her on the bed, he leaned back
against the pillows.
"Meaning?" she asked, polishing off the wine in three
swallows and holding her glass out to be refilled.
"Meaning that the last time we did this," he replied
while pouring her another glass, "you got drunk as a very
cute little skunk and passed out before I could take ad-
vantage of you."
Buffy grinned. "Then you'd better get started with the
advantage taking." She drained her glass and set it down
beside the bottle.
Setting his glass next to hers, he said, "Anything my
girl wants, she gets." He leaned over to kiss her, but she
scooted away and off the bed. "Hey!" he complained, reach-
ing for her.
"Hey nothing," she replied, heading into the bathroom. "You
know how I am when I drink. Either I go now, or I go when
we're in the middle of something fun. Take your pick."
"Go now," he said, shaking his head in amusement. He
tugged off his boots and went to the window to close the
curtains.
As he looked out on the empty street, his eye was caught
by movement in the shadows as a figure stepped behind a
tree. A car came down the street, it's headlights brief-
lighting up the yard.
Spike stared more intently, feeling for a moment that
he'd seen a familiar face staring up at their bedroom win-
dow.
"Whatcha looking at, handsome?" Buffy asked, sliding
her arms around Spike's waist from behind.
He frowned slightly. "Nothing. I thought I..." He shook
his head and turned to face her. "Just shadows, I guess.
Nothing important."
"Well, look at me, then," she said. "I'm important, aren't
I?"
"You," he informed her, leading her across the room, "are
all that's important in the world right now. You're all there
is."
Buffy smiled. "Oh, I like the sound of that." Sliding her
hands up his chest, she began to unbutton his shirt.
He stopped her. "No, I'll do that. I want something else
tonight." He took to the middle of the room, then
glanced through a stack of CDs and selected one. Placing
it in the CD player, he adjusted the volume to a low setting,
then settled back on the bed.
Buffy looked at him with a question in her eyes as soft
music began to play, a low alto sax with a seductive
rhythm.
She watched as he reached over and turned the lamp-
light down to a mellow glow, then leaned back against
the pillows.
He smiled at her. "Take off your clothes."
She returned his smile, then began to sway with the
beat of the music. Her hips swung suggestively as she
began to unbutton her shirt. When every button was
unfastened, she let the blouse slip down over one
shoulder as she turned around, glancing back at him
through half closed eyes.
Instead of letting the blouse slide off, she reached up
and pulled the clips out of her hair, letting it tumble
down her back, nearly to her waist.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Buffy blew him a kiss. She knew how much he loved her
hair. Months ago, when their love affair had really begun,
he had lain beside her in bed, stroking her hair, and had
begged her not to cut it. He touched it constantly, running
his fingers through it when they made love, playing with it
absentmindedly when they stretched out on the sofa to-
gether reading or watching television, and burying his face
in it when they went to sleep.
Sometimes, he would come up behind her when she was
brushing it and take the brush away from her. He would make
her sit on the end of their bed and would run the brush through
her hair himself, working out the tangles carefully and gently.
Now, she ran her hands up under it, piling it on top of her
head and holding it there while she danced for him, then
released it, shaking her head to make it bounce and shimmer
in the light.
"Beautiful," he said again as she turned to face him and
began easing her blouse down her arms, letting it slide
off.
She made another kiss at him, then reached behind her
and unzipped her skirt, kicking it away when it puddled
around her feet. Turning her back, she ran her hands down
her arms, then her sides, in a slow self caress.
"Yeah," she heard him whisper.
Still facing away from him, Buffy looked over her shoulder
and smiled as she lifted her hands and twisted open the
front closure of her white lace bra. She pulled the cups
apart, stretching the lace out from her body, then letting
it slide down her arms. Instead of dropping it, she tossed
it over her shoulder at him, knowing he would catch it.
"Come on, baby," he growled. "Let me see."
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and turned
around. Still moving her hips, she shook her hair forward
until it covered her breasts, then slowly dropped her arms.
He chuckled softly. "Tease," he called her, his eyes
devouring her as she stood before him clad in nothing
but a scrap of white lace underpants.
"That's right," she said in a breathy voice. "I'm a tease." She
widened her eyes innocently. "Want to see?" she asked,
glancing down at her covered breasts.
"Yeah," he said, his voice low. Buffy watched as he slid
his hand over the snug crotch of his jeans, pulling at
them as they suddenly became very tight.
She could see how uncomfortable he looked. "Maybe you
should unzip them," she suggested in the same innocent
tone.
He swallowed hard and unbuckled his belt, then care-
fully unzipped his fly. "Look at what you do to me."
"Oh," she cooed sweetly. "I'm a bad girl, aren't I?" She
moved her shoulders to the music, making her breasts
sway.
"You're a VERY bad girl." He was using that ultra deep, sexy
voice that she loved, as he moved his hand into the open-
ing of his jeans.
"Shall I stop?" she asked, running her tongue over her
upper lip.
"No, baby." He shook his head. "Don't ever stop
being my bad girl."
Buffy moved her hands to cover her breasts, then shook
her hair back over her shoulders. Spreading her legs in a
wider stance, she waited for a crescendo in the music, then
flung her arms straight up, like she was reaching for a star.
She held the pose until the music started again.
When she looked at him, she was surprised to see
that he had crawled down to the end of the bed. One arm
shot out and grabbed her hand, and she gasped as she
was hauled roughly down onto the bed.
Spike shoved her onto her back, then rolled over on
top of her and tangled one hand in her hair. His mouth
came down on hers with no gentleness or finesse,
driven by raw lust.
Before she could get her arms around him, he pulled
away from her and rose to his knees. "Not yet,' he said.
Buffy was losing control over her own arousal. "But why?"
she panted.
He reached for her and brought her up beside him. Taking
both of her hands in his, he placed them over her breasts.
"Touch yourself," he whispered hoarsely. "I want to watch."
She felt a bolt of pure sexual excitement rush through
her. This was new, and she loved doing new things
with him. The tricks he had taught her since they'd begun
sleeping together never failed to drive her wild.
It was Spike who had taught her about the pleasure to
be found while making love in water. She had come home
from the market, and after putting the groceries away,
had gone upstairs to change into her workout clothes.
When she'd walked into the bathroom, she'd found it
illuminated entirely by candlelight, and the tub filled
with steamy, scented water. There was a mound of
ice cubes in the sink, with a champagne bottle wedged
into them.
The door had closed behind her, and she had turned
around to see her lover standing in front of it wearing
a pair of black silk pajama pants and holding out a long
stemmed red rose.
Before she knew what had happened, he had her
stripped naked and in the tub, and was running a
sponge heavy with fragrant lather all over her body.
Spike's capacity for romance never failed to amaze
her. By the time they'd finished, there was an inch
of standing water on the floor, and the champagne had
ended up in places she'd never expected it to.
Water play wasn't limited to the tub with him. He made
a point of regularly interrupting her in the middle of a
shower. He would push her up against the tile and lick
drops of water off her skin, then drop to his knees and
go down on her while the hot water pelted them both.
After bringing her to climax, he would place his hands
under her bottom and lift her, then slide her up and
down his cock until he came. Kissing her sweetly, he
would leave the shower. All this would be done with-
out a word spoken between them.
He was endlessly inventive with sex, teaching her how
to play games, showing her new techniques and
positions, and instructing her in the art of using food
and drink in erotic play.
Spike was a devoted teacher, and Buffy was an eager
student as he initiated her into a whole new world of
sensuality.
Her previous sexual experience had been so
limited that she was constantly surprised by him.
She'd only had one night with Angel, and she'd been
so young and naive that he hadn't wanted to frighten
her or seem too demanding. He had been gentle with
her untried body, so desperately afraid that he would
hurt her that he'd held himself back and never really
released his full passion.
Of course, he had thought that there would be all the
time in the world for him to teach her the wonderful
possibilities of intimacy.
Her second lover, if you could call him that, had been
one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She had been
so eager to explore the budding sexuality that Angel
had roused in her, that she had allowed Parker to seduce
her with charm, good looks, and a phony air of sensi-
tivity, without ever really getting to know him.
It was tawdry behavior on her part, and the next morn-
ing she had gotten exactly what she'd deserved...hurt
and humiliation.
She had learned from that mistake, and when Riley
came into her life, she had taken things slowly. When
their relationship had taken it's natural course, Buffy
had been certain that she'd finally found a man who
could show her all the pleasures of sex that she'd been
yearning for.
But, Riley had little imagination or the stamina needed
to please her. Many times he had left her unsatisfied,
forcing her to resort to self stimulation to quiet her un-
fulfilled need.
Buffy had never been able to bring herself to tell him
what she needed him to do, which made her think that
perhaps the fault lay with her. This would make her
feel guilty, and she would end up trying too hard to find
her own release.
The worst part of the problem was the fact that Riley
never thought anything was wrong, had never noticed
that he was not satisfying her.
By the time he'd left, she had begun to wonder if
this was going to be the pattern of her life, and if she
had expected too much from the sex act.
Perhaps life was not a romance novel containing wild-
ly fantastic, utterly mind blowing, totally pleasurable
sex every ten pages.
She knew better now. Her life had BECOME one of
those romance novels, different only in the fact that
her novel had the fantastic sex every two pages.
With Spike, she had finally found the man who could
please her AND go on and on, never tiring, never losing
control.
He had never, not even once, left her unsatisfied and
aching. In fact, he had been the lover that introduced
her to the concept of multiple orgasms.
Spike had proven his strength and stamina on the
first night they had made love.
It had started with a fight. Back then, everything they
did seemed to start with a fight.
She had only been back amongst the living for a
few weeks, and she'd found that Spike was more
firmly entrenched in her world than ever.
But it hadn't bothered her. He had proven his loyalty
to her and Dawn, and Buffy knew that if he could
have died in her place, he would have.
The night she came back, when everything had
been so confusing and frightening, the quiet sound
of his voice had comforted her.
He had come to the house looking for Dawn, frantic
at her sudden disappearance, and his shouting had
startled Buffy at first.
Once she'd realized who was downstairs, she'd
had an urge to run to him, to tell him that she was
alive. She'd seen the wonder in his eyes when he'd
realized that it was not the robot standing before him.
He had been as tender as she'd ever known him
to be, kind and almost sweetly uncertain of his place
with her.
She hadn't wanted him to leave, but the others had
all rushed in with frightened, worried faces, and he
had gone before she could rouse herself to stop him.
She had almost sent Dawn after him, but by the time
everyone had gone home or to bed, she had been so
unbearably tired that she fell asleep on the sofa.
Life had slowly resumed it's natural course. She did
her job at night and took care of her home and her
sister during the day. She had also resumed her
denial of wanting anything to do with Spike, but he'd
been too persistent, dismantling her walls one at a
time with casual flirtation and unexpected, passion-
ate kisses.
After the final brick in her defenses was removed,
Spike had acted before she could slap it back in
and seal it with the mortar of her insecurity and fear.
When she'd finally caved in, they had beaten the
mutual crap out of each other, as they'd done many
times before.
But it was different this time. There was an undercurrent
of sexual arousal just barely beneath the surface of their
anger.
When she couldn't stand it anymore, she'd shoved him
up against a crumbling plaster wall inside a broken down
house, kissing him so hard that her lips felt bruised.
He had been surprised, but he'd recovered quickly and
had made violent love to her, standing up and holding
her completely off the ground.
The entire act had taken place in silence, save for their
harsh panting and groaning, and the metallic sound of
Spike's belt buckle and zipper.
It had been hot and raw and fast, pure sex in it's
most basic form, with no gentle touches and no fore-
play. She had simply yanked her skirt up and moved
her underpants to one side.
Only a matter of moments passed before they had
reached a powerful climax, grinding themselves into
each other as their bodies exploded in the bliss of
simultaneous orgasm.
She'd lost count of how many times and ways they'd
had each other during that long night, before their
bodies said "ENOUGH, ALREADY!" and had put them
to sleep.
The next morning, Buffy had awakened to find that
the building had almost come down around their
ears without them noticing it.
Asking him if he knew what had happened, she'd
gotten a smart ass comment about it being sometime
between their first encounter and their fourth....or maybe
their twenty-fourth, who knew?
She had muttered something under her breath about
shoddy carpentry and how no one seemed to take
pride in their work anymore, then had crawled back
into the shelter of his arms.
After another go-round, he had confessed to her
that he'd always known the only thing more exciting
than fighting with her, would be making love to her,
a comment that had made her even more pliable in
his arms.
Once the initial barrier had been breached, there
had been no holding them back. Their bodies,
both long deprived of sexual release, had begun to
rule their common sense, making them take ridiculous
chances of being caught in the act.
The closest they'd come to discovery had been in
the basement of the Magic Box. Thinking about it
still made her cheeks redden.
She had been in the basement taking inventory, so
completely bored that her teeth fell asleep. There
were four or five customers upstairs, plus Xander,
Willow and Anya.
When she'd heard soft footsteps on the stairs, her
skin had begun to tingle, telling her who was approach-
ing. She hadn't turned around, or acknowledged his
presence in any way, until she felt his arms wrapping
around her waist.
One hand had moved up the front of her body, taking
the clipboard away from her and tossing it to one side.
Her eyes had drifted shut when he'd whispered, "I want
you now," as he'd lifted her skirt.
When she'd felt him slip his fingers into the elastic
of her underpants, her eyes had flown open and
she'd cast a sidelong glance at the basement door.
Trying to maintain a little control, she had whispered
to him that they couldn't do it there, that someone might
come.
He had laughed softly, assuring her that someone
WOULD come, there was no "might" about it. He'd
then pushed his hand deeper between her legs.
Buffy had grabbed his arm and tried to dislodge his
hand, until he found the place that always made her
scream, and massaged it firmly.
The moment he'd touched her there, her head had
dropped back against his chest, and she'd taken
his other hand and placed it over her breast.
As he'd fondled and squeezed her, she had reached
behind her with one hand and caressed the hard
bulge between his thighs.
He had groaned softly, pushing her panties down and
unzipping his fly to release his steel hard erection.
Placing her hands flat on the wall to brace her,
he'd pushed her legs farther apart, then positioned
himself and penetrated her with agonizing slowness.
Holding onto her hips, he had begun to thrust, slowly
at first, then with increasing speed and depth. With
his lips against her ear, he'd whispered to her about
how tight and hot she was, how he wanted to pound
into her until they were both senseless with pleasure,
urging her to let herself go...to come...to do it for him.
Fear of discovery had added an even fiercer urgency
to the act, which only intensified the pleasure.
Feeling the onset of her orgasm, he had clapped
one hand over her mouth, then buried his face
against the side of her neck, his teeth biting down
gently.
His free hand had moved back down between her
legs to play with her clit, making her come at the
same instant that he exploded inside of her.
Moments later, as she stood panting with her cheek
pressed against the wall, he had carefully withdrawn
from her and adjusted his clothing. Leaning close,
he had murmured, "Thank you, baby," then went
back upstairs.
She had finished the inventory with a idiotic smile
on her face that no one understood.
TBC....
Comments? Let me have 'em!
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