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*About 80 miles north of the Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK, first week of September*
Spike’s ability to think restarted at probably the most unlikely moment: when Buffy had already managed to undo the belt on his camouflage trousers and reached inside to cup his hardness in her right palm. With a start, he tried to pull back from the full assault of her kisses, while at the same time fighting his own body’s unquenchable thirst for hers. Despite it being a mostly losing battle, he managed to put enough distance between their mouths to yell, “Stop, Buffy, please”!
While he consciously knew why he wanted her to stop, when faced with the shock and betrayal written across her features, the logic of it all seemed to escape him for a heartbeat. By the time he’d gathered his wits, Buffy was already two steps away, readjusting her clothes, and studiously glaring at him. He knew her well enough to know that he was treading on extremely thin ice and was probably just a wrong word away from possibly being stranded here, in the middle of nowhere.
“We need to flesh this out before anything happens. I was actually planning on talking to you about this—us—sometime soon, maybe in that plush study of yours, but I guess this place will do in a pinch.” He was relieved when she didn’t say anything but kept watching him through narrowed eyes, without stomping away, flaring nostrils aside. “Look, there’s only one way to say what I’m about to say, and it might sound bad at points, but please hear me out.” He took a deep breath and decided to go all in, right from the start. “I love you. Never doubt that.”
Her face softened at his admission, and she pointed at some nearby rocks. “Maybe we should be sitting for this, huh?”
He gave her a reassuring smile and joined her on the somewhat flat surface of a large nearby bolder. He took her right hand in his left while he gathered up the courage to get through the beginning.
“I don’t—I can’t let us start this like this. Not again.” He gestured with his right hand at the surrounding lands. “I mean look at this place. Not exactly a run-down building, but the main part is the same: it’s not what I want our first time together to be. Not what we deserve it to be.” She frowned slightly and looked like she was about to object to something, so he hurried to add. “Not that doing it spontaneously on patrol isn’t fun and all, but I’d really like us to actually make it to the bed.” They both smiled at the memories this elicited, but her smile turned into another frown easily enough.
“So it isn’t that you don’t want me anymore? It isn’t that—”
“God, no!” He turned slightly so that he was facing her completely, his legs on either side of the rock. “I want you just as badly as I ever did, but when I say that, I mean I want it all, Slayer. I want us to be out in the open, both in it the same way. As it should be…” ‘As it was always supposed to be’ was left unsaid. He saw her flinch a bit and realized she must have guessed his thoughts. It gave him a sick feeling of satisfaction mingled with guilt and longing. And that was exactly why they needed to had that talk. But that she still wasn’t saying anything, maybe waiting for him to tell her ‘it’s okay,’ now he’d finished putting his cards on the table and it was her turn to bet or fold. “So this is how it is, Buffy. It’s either us together in a relationship or nothing at all; I can’t have this adrenaline fueled, destructive, hateful thing we used to have.”
She looked at him like he’d grown an extra head, and for just a millisecond there, he almost raised his hand to check if it was so. “Is that—You think…” She closed her eyes, as if she were in physical pain, and took a deep breath. When she looked at him again, she was calm and her lips twitched with the traces of a smile. “You’re an idiot.”
That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. It was probably among the last things on the list of what he’d expected her to say, and yet there she was, having said it and looking at him as if she expected him to understand the answer to all his questions from that single statement. “What?”
Her face broke out in a brilliant smile then, the image of it almost making him ache. He wasn’t even sure if she’d ever smiled at him like that, at least not without some spell involved. Before he could manage to sift through all the memories he had of her, she’d taken her hand out of his and cupped his cheek. “So you’re saying that you stopped me—stopped us—from taking the next step because you think I’d keep you as my dirty little secret? Again?” He was too stunned to say anything, so he just nodded, which caused Buffy to chuckle again, although it sounded more self-deprecating this time around. “We’re both idiots, then.”
She took another deep breath and sighed. “I listened to you, so now you listen to me, buster. I’m sorry.” The last sentence was said softly, almost like a caress.
Combined with the actual caress on his cheek, it made him think that maybe she wasn’t apologizing for not wanting to start something, but for something else. Something more. He really hoped it was more, but he just had to make sure. “What for, pet?”
“Where to start?” She lowered her palm, but he didn’t get to miss it for long before she took his hand in her own again. “I’m sorry for how I treated you back in Sunnydale; for not telling anyone about us; for denying what you felt, as well as what I felt… But most of all, I’m sorry for not telling you that I loved you until it was too late. And I did love you! For a long time before I told you, I could feel it growing inside me, but I was stupid and selfish and scared and I didn’t tell you.” Silent tears were coursing down her cheeks. He felt like wiping them off but was frozen in place instead, while she went on. “I loved you back then and I still love you now. And everyone in the castle already knows about us, so there will be no more secrets.”
They were kissing again. He wasn’t sure which one had moved, but it didn’t matter anymore. They were kissing each other with wanton abandonment, lips demanding and desperate, shallow breaths through open mouths because of stuffy noses, tears falling unheeded from both of their eyes; it was perfect.
After a long while, the frantic pace of their make-out session died down, leaving them both breathless, but content. They had moved at some point to a kneeling position on top of the rock they’d been sitting on. Their hands were no longer clasped together; instead, they were banded around each other, palms splayed on each other’s back. And they were both smiling.
“So this means we give it the good old Oxford try?”
She slapped at his arm with the back of her hand. “Of course, you doofus. We’re all with the togetherness having.” They were both grinning widely at her use of the language patterns she’d mostly outgrown since Sunnydale.
“And there goes the Slayer, mangling the language as usual.”
“It’s not my fault. Kissage with the hot, undead boyfriend fried my brain.” Giving him a coy look, she leaned closer to his ear. “Now, is there anything I could do to get you to go back to making with the happy?”
He felt a shiver of pleasure go up his spine. “I’d love to, Buffy, but there’s a few things that stop me.” He started kissing her from above the turtleneck she was wearing, all the way to her ear. “First of all, I want to do right by you and lick and kiss and bite and suck every inch of your delicious flesh.” He demonstrated what each meant on her pulse-point, eliciting strangled gasps from her. “And I don’t plan on you getting a cold in this nature’s freezer while I do it.” Even for a vamp, the plunge in temperature was obvious—all the more so with Spike’s increasingly human constitution. “Secondly, I seem to remember that castle of yours being furnished with nice comfy beds, and it would be a real crime not to take advantage of that fact.” He sucked her earlobe in his mouth and bit it lightly. “Thirdly, this isn’t exactly familiar territory for me, and I’d hate to have to stop in the middle of things just because some idiot could smell or hear us from a mile away and decided to crash the party.” The way she was clawing at his back was almost painful, despite the layers of material from his shirt and leather jacket. “And lastly, you seem to have forgotten about the most important thing.”
Spike stopped doing anything to her then, content to just hold her in his arms. He had to wait a few seconds until she opened lust-filled eyes at him. “Wh—What?”
Using two fingers, he took hold of her chin and directed her face to his left. “The helicopter is coming to pick us up.” She groaned in frustration when she finally managed to focus enough to see the distant lights that heralded their return flight. “Now, let’s get going so that we can break in that bed of yours.”
~~~***~~~
*Buffy’s room, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*


The slayer and her vampire burst through the door giggling like teenagers. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Buffy jumped on Spike, her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. They kissed each other as if their lives depended on it. And, considering how turned on she’d been since they’d had their talk, it sure seemed as though she’d die of frustration soon. On the helicopter ride back, she’d tried to touch him in all the naughty places, the fact that the pilots might have seen them only turning her on even more. Then had come the race through the ancient hallways to reach her room, uncaring about who saw them and what anybody would think. It felt so liberating; it almost made her cry with joy.


They were finally touching, grabbing, feeling, and kissing each other. It can’t get any better. Well, there could be fewer clothes. Being the take-charge slayer she was, she started unbuttoning. She didn’t really mind if it was her clothes or his that held the buttons that were coming undone. She wasn’t anywhere near her goal, when Spike took hold of her hands and stilled them.


“No fair. I wasn’t done with your shirt.” She widened her eyes and jutted out her lower lip in a mock-innocent pleading manner, knowing very well how he usually responded to that. Spike groaned, but still held her in place.


“Let me take you to the bed and worship you like I promised.” The lust and fire burning in his eyes and the gruff voice he spoke in sent another flood of pleasure coursing through her veins. The only problem with that plan was that she knew exactly what he was thinking of doing, and she also knew what it would feel like to let him, but she just couldn’t imagine having to wait that long to have him inside her again.


“Fuck the foreplay and just fuck me! We can do slow and tender after, but I just…I need you now.” He grinned like the cat that ate the canary. And he still didn’t move or let her go, so she could tear their clothes off. He just stood there, looking at her and panting for a few seconds.


Then, all of a sudden, the room was spinning, and then it was bouncing, and then she was on the bed, with an obviously aroused vampire shedding clothes as fast as it was…well vampire-ly possible. Her mind blanked of everything except the one thought: must get clothes off now. She frantically started pulling and pushing at her own clothing, cursing silently because of the laces on her combat boots.


Finally, she was naked, and just as she was about to search for her lover, he was right there, hovering above her, glistening and naked as well.


She banded her arms and legs around him, and he wiggled a bit until he was fully inside her, and nothing else mattered. After the first few moments when they both remained still, her body adjusting to his after so long, he started moving in long, hard strokes, ever faster, while she rubbed herself into a frenzy. They both came soon afterwards, with him trailing her by only a few thrusts, prolonging her own release.


Then he made good on his earlier promise of driving her mad with his mouth, only to later drive her into the mattress again, until her mind almost blacked out with pleasure. Once she recovered, she repaid him in kind, taking the time to trace his every inch, before letting him take her hard from behind.


They fell asleep holding each other, and she woke him up a couple of hours later by bouncing on top of him until he came, his mind still half-asleep. She dozed off, but he woke her some time later by slipping into her from behind, rocking slowly back and forth until they both came again, in a slow, lazy orgasm.


When they woke up the next day, they were sore, sated, and together. It made her so happy, she giggled almost through the entire time he “ate his breakfast” from between her legs.


And then they shared a shower.





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