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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here is the said massage table http://www.electronichealing.co.uk/products/comfortflex_massage_table.htm

And here is the disclaimer

The characters are not mine, they are owned by Mr Whedon and I only use them for entertainment purposes.
Buffy looked over at the table in the living room and gulped. The headrest and armrest were stationary but the end of the table was jutting into the air. It was a yummy chocolate brown and stood out in her mother’s homely living room.

Pictures of naughty positions fluttered into her head: Spike’s long fingers gripping her love handles as he lifted her onto the sensual table, her head tilted away from the soft leather upholstery and her legs splayed in the air as guided by the upright end of the table. Her wet pussy pressed up against the leather until those elongated fingers lifted her hips to let his lengthy firm prick plough into her. His taut buttocks tensing as her nipples slid against the soft tabletop and that hot long muscle pistons in and out, up and down, up and up and…

“Buffy? BUFFY!”

“Huh, what?”

“You okay?”

Buffy looked away from the table, trying to focus on anything of interest in her living room that wasn’t chocolate brown or astonishingly blonde.

“Uh, you know, just so you know, I’m not expecting anything, like…finishing.”

“Yes, you are.” His god sinful smirk covered those gorgeous features none too covertly.

“No, I’m not.”

“Whatever you say, love. What were you just daydreaming about?”

“Nothing of any import.”

“Import, huh? Why don’t you hop up on top, pet?”

Buffy climbed up onto the table, making sure her body was covered by the towel before she lay down. Her pointy nipples grazed the soft top and she let the towel fall to her bottom.

Spike hadn’t watched as she jumped onto the massage table, he was too aroused from seeing her in just the piece of fluffy material with the glistening water droplets sparkling across her sunshined skin.

He thought of her as a blend of life and death and desire and despair and definitely a beautiful fury of the endless haunting dreams. He could drown in dreams of her till the end of his miserable life. If he touched her, he didn’t know if she’d still be real.

“Are you going to touch me soon?”

Spike hesitantly stepped forward, sure that he’d soil his trousers as soon as his hands touched her luscious skin. Maybe, just maybe, he’d explode into dust in a fit of intense lust before he had to touch her tense muscles.

‘Oh god,’ Spike thought as something swam from his chest into his brain. He had a sudden need to sooth her pain, forever. The chocked feeling in the back of his throat was only there because he could see her grimace when the pain flared up. God, he’d only just met her, only argued with her, didn’t even know her.

“Hey, Massage Boy, you dead over there or what? I’m paying you to touch me.”

“I’m sorry, just warming up my hands.”

His hands were not in the least bit warm. He felt like he’d been stuck overnight in a meat locker and all the blood had rushed to his head. His other head.

He rubbed his hands together after grabbing some peppermint oil and delicately splaying it onto his hands. He finally touched her.

Spike began to rub her shoulders, knowing he could work up her back because he needed some time to control himself before he reached her bottom. He was hurting her but Buffy could take it, she need to take it. He dug and dug into her muscles, furrowing into her skin as he made his way down her back.

“Mmm, don’t stop.” She said when his hands stilled half way down her spine.

“Sorry love, but I’m going to have to get up on the table with you if you want me to continue the deep tissue stuff.”

“Yes,” she breathily moaned.

“He swung his leg up and over her and situated himself to hover over her arse.

Too late did he realise he’d left his fly open when his trouser button popped off and his hard headed hunk of meat smacked her towel covered arse.

“What’s that?”

“Bloody hell. Have you got a needle?”

“A NEEDLE!” She instantly sat up, forgetting her nakedness.

“My button popped off.”

She looked back and her eyes widened.

“Um, maybe you could, like, finish the massage?” Buffy swore she was blushing as her subtle innuendo passed between the still air surrounding their bodies.

He gulped and attempted to readjust himself but as he moved and kneaded her cookie dough muscles, he kept slipping out of his trousers.

His fingers finally found her lumbar region and she sighed as he pounded her skin, his manhood dangling above her.

God, she was so close. So incredibly close that she quickly flipped around beneath him and grabbed his cock in her hands.

His eyes practically removed themselves from his skull as she flicked the towel away, annoyed. She was so astonishingly beautiful, every little bump and knot and tender spot. Her hair spread around her face like a wicked angel that contradicted the sinful smile on her face. His dick throbbed in her little hands and he almost came as she started to explore the individuality of his penis.

When she positioned him right at the entrance to the gateways of life and death he fell backwards off the table.

He stuttered, his Britishness arriving in full force as he paced beside the table and avoiding her at all costs.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…ah…oh dear lord…I’ve never, I mean, I don’t have sexual relations with my clients.”

“Oh.” Her lips formed that surprised ‘oh’ shape and he couldn’t help but become incredibly and suddenly angry.

“What do you mean, oh? I’m not some freaking hustler. I’m a professional masseur! I’ve bloody helped professional athletes to get their careers back! I’ve travelled the bloody world learning and helping people! And you think you have the right to question my morality!”

His face was purple and his legs had practically burrowed a trench in her rugs.

“Ah…I didn’t mean…I thought…I thought you wanted me.”

It was his turn to make vowel shapes on his mouth.

“It’s just…I’ve never, I mean to say that, I’ve only been with one woman.” He whispered quietly, shyly Buffy thought.

“So you’re just a shy little boy under all the swagger. Well, we can fix that.”

He gulped again, and not for the last time that night.





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