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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here's the next installment. I hope everyone is still enjoying! Thanks always to Sanityfair
Determination. Determination penetrated every fiber of his being as he stalked through the icy streets of Boston, toward his flat. For the last two hours, his mind and body had been coiled tight, like a cobra prepared to strike. Upon the realization, that his earth-bound goddess was within an arm's length, every fiber of his being was on the edge. His heavy boots fell upon the frozen sidewalks. His mind wandered back to earlier in the evening.


**** ****


With anticipation and reservations, Spike entered the studio. Despite the confidence that he exuded, he was everything but. When a flyer was placed on the Boston University’s bulletin board seeking a nude model, without hesitation, he had contacted the number listed. The combination of money, which was desperately needed, and his unabashed notion of nudity, the opportunity appeared ideal. That was until he entered into the studio. Bright lights and numerous gazes upon his scantily clad form caused minuscule butterflies to take flight, within the recesses of his gut. His bare flesh, which was encased by only soft, ebony terrycloth, prickled with uneasiness, as these feelings combined with tendrils of exhilaration.

Upon entering, he felt a singular gaze, which burned his very soul. With a slight mental shake, he pushed past this feeling, and disrobed. The cool air placed kisses upon his flesh, as it was exposed to the studio. Situating himself upon the plush velvet, Spike continued to feel these eyes upon him, with the intensity of a lover’s touch. With low murmured instructions from the professor, Spike molded his body upon her words. Upon the professor draping an onyx sheet across his lap, shielding his manhood, his lids covered his gaze.

Within the darkness of his own mind, Spike’s thoughts wandered. The time he laid upon the divan, the constant feeling of this gaze, stroked his form with desire and fervor. When these thoughts were intertwined with visions of his golden goddess, his cock swelled with anticipation. He was tremendously grateful, for the sheath and the position of his legs, shielding his erection from the scrutinizing gazes of those within the studio.

Spike envisioned it was she that adorned his body, not the fabric splayed across his hips, nor the velvet that caressed his exposed flesh. She writhed upon him, her searing, bare flesh, tantalizing his skin with soft touches and whispered promises of immense pleasure. With all his strength, he maintained the position the professor had molded his body into, only barely. Desire licked his insides, as these torrid feelings searched for a release. His cock throbbed within its textile encasement; his palm itched to gather his member within the confines of his fist.

Trapped in the midst of his own personal blissful heaven and fiery hell, Spike’s reprieve arrived, the blithe voice of the professor announced a well-deserved break was upon them. With an inward sigh, he extracted his ever increasingly, sensitive form from the velveteen. Spike’s cock jumped, as he dragged the fabric from his hips. Quickly, he placed the terry cloth barrier. Once the robe was drawn tight, and the sash cinched, he slowly rotated his taut muscles, which screamed due to his long stretch of immobility. After several elongated stretches, Spike’s gaze examined the room and its members within.

A total of eight people, excluding the professor, animatedly chattered as they showcased their work to one another. All but one, her, she remained fastened to her seat. It was as though she intended to remain anonymous to all those around her. Like a moth to a brightly burning flame, Spike’s eyes were instinctually drawn to her. Realization flooded his mind. He drank in her presence. Before him was his golden goddess, the woman that haunted every dream since that fateful night - his earth-bound Aphrodite.

Desire flared within his gaze. Flesh rippled, cock elongated and hardened further, within the confines of its cloth prison. His heart pounded within the confines of his chest, as the organ sought to escape the house of flesh and bone.

Each of her attributes was delicate and stunning. Her body was petite, fairy-like, which was a fierce contradiction to her essence, which pervaded the entire room. Her golden tresses flowed freely. They rested upon her slender shoulders, pert breasts and spilled down her back. Her flaxen locks, framed her breath-taking features. Her full bee-stung lips, with a pouty contour, begged for him to sample and savor. Her nose was perfect, yet imperfect, as the tip slightly flared upwards. Her large, expressive green eyes, which were speckled with brilliant gold, studied him intently. She was simply breathtaking.

Their eyes met, the entire world outside their gaze, dispersed and vanished. Before his body shifted, or a sound could be uttered, with a flurry of movements, she fled into the night. All sound ceased, as each witnessed her flight. Once the wooden barrier, that separated the studio from the outside world, closed, the endless prattle erupted anew.

Spike remained rooted in his position before the divan, his mind attempting to untangle and process what had just transpired. Only the swift and hammering tempo of his heart, accompanied his wayward thoughts. That was until he was jostled from his emotion-filled stupor, by the professor’s voice and subtle touch upon his clothed shoulder.

“I think we are done here for the evening, William. Same time, next week?”

Her voice echoed within the walls of his daze, Spike offered a slight nod and a whispered ‘yeah’. Within moments, the studio cleared of its previous inhabitants. All that seemed to remain, was Spike and her essence. With gradual, meticulous steps, he approached the area that once held her heavenly form.

His gaze lingered upon her area briefly. With a deep breath, his gaze lifted towards her artwork. There upon the canvas, was his form, created from passionate, flowing strokes of charcoal. She appeared to capture his body flawlessly. Every sharp line she replicated, from his slender hips, to his sculpted cheekbones. Every swell of his body, his full lips to the contours of his muscles, as they remained at rest beneath his flesh. With one glance, Spike fully understood, this was not only drawn from today’s session, but countless memories she housed within the deep recesses of her mind.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed one thing that appeared to be added, an improvisation. Folded beneath his supine form, were…wings. As he studied her depiction of him, only two words were scribed upon the canvas, Fallen Angel.

Spike was overwhelmed with a myriad of feelings that coursed through him; yearning, admiration, lust, determination and utter bewilderment. While they pulsated through his mind, Spike didn’t hear anyone approach. Until a gentle touch was placed upon his forearm, breaking him from his reverie.

Standing before him, was a shapely woman, with soft features and even softer demeanor. With gentle words, she introduced herself as the friend of the woman who had created this portrait. Spike’s gaze widened, as he realized this one creature, could bring to life his dreams, with only a name. Her name.

Tara, which she introduced herself as, appeared to be studying him, their minimal conversation revolved around the portrayal that lay before them. Spike felt naked, at her gaze. It appeared, she was trying to reach deep within his mind and soul, with a mere glance. A kindhearted smile graced her lips. Her baby-blues finished their assessment. Without another word, she handed him a crimson messenger bag with a silver dragon painted upon the front and disappeared from the studio.

Spike’s gaze moved from the bag to the portrait several times before the realization hit, this was the key to finally meeting his golden goddess. A large grin graced his lips, as he gradually opened the bag.

Among the standard collection of art supplies, snacks and the like, was a small leather wallet. With bated breath, Spike opened the holder. There, among pictures of family and friends, lay her school ID. His gaze fixed upon her photo briefly before his eyes moved to his Holy Grail, her name. As if he was divulging a holy utterance, her name fell from his lips as in prayer. Buffy.


**** ****

Spike’s heavy boots echoed upon the vacant hallways of his apartment building. Determination continued to fuel his motives. He entered into his flat. With a brief nod to his roommate, who was splayed across the couch in the living room, Spike headed towards his room.

Upon passing the threshold, he immediately stalked to his bedroom window. Darkness met his determined gaze. The muscle in his jaw twitched slightly, as disappointment filled him to the core. His fist released slightly as he worked at the material of her satchel, between his fingers. Revealing her ID again, an almost feral grin graced his full lips. If she wouldn’t seek him, then he would go to her.

Upon the completion of his shower, to wash away all the other’s gazes, he would breech his goddess’ Mount Olympus, and bestow upon her glorious flesh, all the pleasures of man. Quickly disrobing, Spike headed off to cleanse his flesh.



Chapter End Notes:
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