Clearly, Spike had been busy during her absence. The sheets adorning his bed were now a deep scarlet, and a sultry, golden glow pervaded the chamber due to an impressive array of candles and tea lights. Buffy gasped at the unexpected sight, and Spike lowered her to her feet—riddled by insecurity—as she surveyed his grand romantic gesture. Admittedly, it was a right poncy thing for him to do, but he hoped his girl would appreciate the sentiment, and not laugh him out of the building like he probably deserved.
“Oh my God,” Buffy whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth. “It’s—I... You did all this for me?”
Spike rolled his eyes, smiling at the woman who’d unwittingly wrapped his undead heart around her little finger. Overcome, he gathered Buffy in his arms and lifted her up, pressing her against the nearest wall. “Wanted it to be special,” he muttered, planting a series of kisses along her neck as his hands worked to slip the duster off her shoulders. Buffy’s legs were anchored around his hips, and as Spike endeavoured to free her arms, his mouth was at her ear, whispering seductively of all the ways he planned on making her his. Again and again and again…
“I want to make love to you.” Forgotten, the coat dropped to the floor, and Spike’s hands travelled to Buffy’s waist, his pale fingers spanning out over the tanned skin of her stomach as his lips brushed over her fluttering pulse point. “Gonna kiss every inch of your body,” he promised. “Want to taste you on my tongue ‘til you’re beggin’ to have me inside… an’ then I want to feel you tremble as I slide my cock into your juicy little quim.”
“Oh god.” Brain melting now... Buffy shivered as Spike nipped at her ear, his sinful tongue dancing patterns over the fleshy lobe. “I’m not the—ah... begging kind,” she gasped, even as her body seemed hell-bent on proving otherwise.
Each whimper and moan was music to Spike’s ears, and a dark chuckle rumbled between them as Buffy grasped desperately at his hair, shivering in his arms. “We’ll see,” he whispered, laving his tongue along the column of her neck. “Either way, you’ll be screamin’ my name when I make you see the stars.”
With a renewed sense of urgency, Spike ran his hands up Buffy’s torso. His fingers were clumsy and awkward as he struggled to remove her top, and in his haste to sample the golden skin hidden from his view, Spike tugged impatiently at the hem, causing the buttons to fly off in several directions. A heady groan fell from Buffy’s lips, and the vampire stole another kiss as her satin-clad breasts were revealed to his hungry perusal.
The way his eyes travelled over her semi-nude form made Buffy feel desirable in a way she never had before, and she squealed in surprise when Spike spun them around and lowered her to the bed, where she landed with a bump.
“Impulsive, huh?”
With a tell-tale smirk, he quickly removed her affordable, yet oh-so-stylish boots, and Buffy giggled as he prowled up the bed with a sleek, feline, grace. “An’ don’t you forget it.” Spike settled between her legs. The image of his girl laid out before him was enough to inspire volumes of badly written poetry.
Rising up on her forearms, Buffy eased herself further up the bed. Her hair tumbled over the pillow like a silken halo, and as Spike raked his eyes over her body in a slow, deliberate caress, she swore that she could feel his touch on her flushed skin.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered.
Spike smiled—an easy, slow-born smile that lit up his eyes, and lent his features a boyish charm. “I’m thinkin’,” he replied, trailing a finger across her cheek, “that you look like an angel spread out before me. Everythin’ I want... everythin’ I’ll ever need...” His other hand swept through Buffy’s hair, teasing out the separate strands as his fingertips ghosted across her mouth. “An’ I can’t believe you’re really mine.”
Buffy studied the openness on his face. The pleasure Spike found in the simple act of touching her was evident in the softening of his sharp features, and when she parted her lips to nip at his exploring digits, a guttural growl rumbled from deep in his throat. “Make love to me,” she whispered, eager to experience first-hand the sinful promises her vampire had sworn against her heated skin.
Never one to refuse a lady, Spike cradled her cheeks between his palms and brushed a feather-light kiss across her lips. He refused to break eye contact, enraptured as he was, by the stormy clouds of arousal which were no doubt mirrored in his own impassioned gaze. Buffy’s pulse quickened and he gradually increased the pressure, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth as he sought entry. Her lips parted on a sigh, and Spike nipped at the tender flesh before snaking out his tongue to explore her mouth in a slow, tortuous kiss.
The rest of the world fell away as they lost themselves in the steady rhythm of their embrace. Soft murmurs and whispered praises filled the air as Spike’s hands scaled down her body—each light touch and delicate caress bringing another of Buffy’s ingrained defences crashing to the ground, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in his arms.
“You taste so good, love,” he muttered, placing a series of butterfly kisses along her collarbone. With practiced ease, Spike’s hands slipped beneath her back, unclasped her bra, and drew it down her arms before Buffy had the chance to realize his intentions. A heated moan tore from her lips as he sucked a nipple between his teeth, and Spike swore that from this moment on, his sole purpose in unlife would be to cause her to make that sound as often as possible.
Eagerly, the Slayer’s legs wound around his waist, her hands sliding over the sinewy muscle confined under a layer of black cotton. Desperate to feel his bare skin, Buffy clawed the t-shirt up Spike’s back, and reluctantly, he pulled away from her breasts to tug the offending item over his head. A wealth of fantasies blossomed into reality, and Spike’s hands trembled as they fell to Buffy’s hips, where he swiftly drew down the zip, and eased the skirt down her legs.
Her last remaining item of clothing was tossed unceremoniously towards the shadows, and Buffy slammed her eyes shut as a wave of self-consciousness threatened to consume her. The crypt was silent, save for her ragged breaths, and summoning her courage, the Slayer forced herself to crack open an eyelid and face the inevitable. She was met by the raised eyebrow and cocky grin from the vampire kneeling between her thighs, and feeling defensive, Buffy began to squirm under his penetrating gaze.
“Are you just gonna stare at me all night?”
Spike chuckled. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
Too bloody right he was gonna stare at her. The Aphrodite of his dreams was here, in his arms—in his bed—and he was duty bound to savour every moment.
Buffy was unaccustomed to such intense scrutiny, and the way Spike’s tongue slid out to wet his bottom lip made her feel like she was a meal to be devoured. A feast for a starving man. And she supposed in many ways she was. It was funny how a pair of fangs had never inspired anything more than abject terror, but the thought of sharing that part of herself with Spike—willingly, and not through necessity or fear—made her long to feel those ivory incisors sink into her vulnerable flesh. Shaking off the thought, Buffy moved to cover herself when his silent appraisal became too much to bear.
“Ah-ah. None of that now.” Spike grasped her by the wrists, smiling gently as he placed a kiss to each palm and raised them to the pillow beside her head. “You’re beautiful, love. Let me see you.” Once again, his gaze swept over her with such blatancy that it made her blush. Unapologetically, Spike drank in every line and curve, nevertheless, his eyes softened as they finally settled on her anxious face. “Bloody perfect, you are.”
“Perfect?” Buffy frowned. “I thought I was done with that pedestal.”
“Perfect for me.” He leaned forward to cover her mouth in an ardent kiss. “Buffy...” Her name was a whispered prayer, and Spike’s hands ran over her body with such gentle reverence that she wanted to weep. “God, Buffy... the things you do to me.”
The time for teasing was at an end, and Spike sighed in awe as he moved further down her slender form, leaving a trail of lazy kisses in his wake. Inhaling deeply, his senses were assaulted by the wondrously complex scent of Buffy’s arousal, and as his hand drifted over her thigh, he couldn’t help wondering what he’d done to deserve this precious gift from heaven—how it was possible that a sinner such as he, could find an angel lying in his arms.
Unhurriedly, Spike’s fingers slipped between her legs, gathering up the evidence of Buffy’s desire, and spreading it over her engorged clit. “Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, silencing the voice in his head telling him to take what was his. As much as he wanted to bury himself inside her welcoming body, Spike wasn’t about to rush ahead and cut short the best sexual experience of his existence—and that was saying something.
Reaching up, he brought one of Buffy’s hands to his lips, absent-mindedly stroking it with his thumb. “Do you think of me when you’re lyin’ in bed at night?” he whispered, eyes darting between her face and the delicate hand in his grasp. “Tell me, kitten, have you ever used these fingers to get yourself off? Wishin’ it was me—wishin’ I was there to catch you when you came with my name on your lips?”
“Spike, I—I...” Can’t form a decent sentence obviously...
Luckily, her vampire appeared to be fluent in the pleasured groans of half-coherent women—a thought that both thrilled Buffy to the core, and brought the green-eyed monster surging to the surface. “I want to watch.” Spike uncurled her fingers and placed them over her throbbing clit. “Next time,” he said, guiding her in a leisurely pattern of flicks and half-circles, “I want you to show me. Can you do that, love?” He chuckled at the adorable look of panic that blossomed on Buffy’s face, before her eyes lit up with defiance, and she leaned up to nip at his earlobe.
“Only if you’ll show me too.”
God, he loved this woman. Spike decided that it’d been too long since he’d tasted Buffy’s kiss on his lips, and quickly remedying the situation, he slid two fingers inside her slick channel. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, swallowing her surprised gasp. “I knew... I knew you'd be hot but... bloody hell...”
As Spike’s thumb brushed away her own soaked digits, Buffy couldn’t help noticing that he was the first lover to even attempt to find her clit, yet alone know what it was for. Breathless, she writhed beneath him, fingernails scoring down his back as she cursed his jeans for preventing her continued exploration of his ‘tight little body’.
“Does that feel good, pet?” He pulled back, allowing her to draw in a ragged breath. “I want to taste you—bury my face in your hot little quim... lick and suck that hidden pearl ‘til you come in my mouth.” Spike grinned against Buffy’s neck when he felt her pulse race beneath his lips. “You like that, don’t you? You like imaginin’ my head between your legs... such a naughty little girl, you are.”
His gentle ministrations were a stark contrast to the words of filth he whispered in her ear, and the Slayer found herself quickly spiralling towards release. Sensing her impending orgasm, Spike entered a third finger into her snug passage, and a womanly moan filled the room as she trembled in his arms.
“That’s it, pet... so bleedin’ beautiful.” He doubled his efforts, flicking her clit in rapid succession. “Jus’ focus on that feelin’—that ache that’s buildin’ inside you. I want you to come for me, Buffy, an’ I want you to scream my name when you do.”
“Oh god... ”
“Do you love this? Do you love what I do to you—the things I make you feel?”
“Yes, I—I...” Buffy gasped, unconsciously grinding herself harder against his hand. “Spike, please...” She was close. So close, and it wouldn’t take much to send her soaring over that precipice.
Her internal muscles began to flutter, and Spike buried his face in her shoulder, giving her clit a brutal twist. “I love you, Buffy.” White lights flashed behind the Slayer’s eyes as her fingers clenched in his hair, no doubt pulling a few out by the roots. Gasping, she keened against him, Spike’s name echoing throughout the room as her climax ripped through her over-sensitised body.
“That's my girl.” Spike chuckled against her neck, carefully withdrawing his hand from between her legs. “You’re drenched, kitten,” he said, moving down her body and resting his chin on her stomach. “Are you gonna let your Spike have a taste?” Without waiting for a response, he swiped his tongue over her glistening pussy, groaning throatily, as he savoured the ambrosia of her spendings.
“Spike, please...” Buffy’s breathing was laboured as he positioned her leg over his shoulder. “I need—”
Grinning, he ghosted a kiss across her thigh. “What is it that you need, pet? Talk to me. Tell daddy what you want.”
“You.” Her body arched in unspoken offering. “Just... please...”
A devilish smirk curled Spike’s lips as he leaned in to trace his tongue along her folds, never exerting enough pressure to satisfy her demands. “Such a pretty little quim,” he said, blowing a cool stream of air against her heated sex. “All pink an’ wet... just beggin’ for my mouth, isn’t it, love?”
An inhuman growl tore from Buffy’s throat as she glared at the self-satisfied vampire. “Touch me,” she said with as much authority as she could muster, given her post-orgasmic haze. “Quit with the teasing and touch me already.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “I am touchin’ you,” he replied, nipping at her sodden flesh. “Maybe you oughta be a little more specific?” He knew his girl wasn’t particularly verbose when it came to matters of the bedroom, however, he didn’t want her to feel shy about making her desires known. “Where do you want me, Buffy?”
Bastard. “You know where.”
Chuckling, Spike brought a finger down to tease her entrance. “Gonna have to do better than that, love. Do you want me here...” he said, nuzzling at the crease of her thigh before nibbling at her wet folds, “...or here. Or maybe...” His finger dipped inside her core, making her buck against his hand. “Maybe you want me here, lappin’ at that pretty puss till your juices spill down my throat.”
Was it possible to combust from sexual frustration? Buffy was certain her skin was ablaze, and Spike’s words, spoken in that infuriatingly calm tone, were doing little to cool the flames of passion. She knew what he was trying to do, but even in her wildest fantasies she’d never pictured herself as the type to talk dirty without coming across as foolish. “I really, really, hate you right now.”
“No,” Spike glanced up, smirk firmly attached to his lips, “you love me, said so yourself.” Finally taking pity on the young woman, he ran his tongue along the length of her sex, relishing the tangy flavour as she whimpered beneath him.
Buffy longed to watch his explorations, but she was unable to fight the instinctive arc of her back when his cool mouth latched on to her burning flesh. Reaching up, Spike placed a hand on her stomach, his thumb rubbing in counterpoint to his tongue as he soothed her. “Look at me,” he said, his piercing blue gaze drawing her in. “Don’t turn away. I want to see those beautiful eyes watchin’ me.”
A shaky nod was all she could manage, and Spike set to work with renewed vigour, licking, sucking, but all the while avoiding the one place she needed him most. For her part, Buffy was convinced that this was how he planned to do in his third slayer. Wantonly, she writhed on the bed, hands clenched in his sheets, as her breathless lungs fought to drag much-needed oxygen into her body.
A litany of muffled pleas fell from Buffy’s lips, and Spike could feel himself throbbing with each desperate word as he steadily thrust two fingers into her pussy. He could feel the blood thundering through her veins, hear the erratic beat of her quickening heart, and it was all Spike could do to keep himself in check. Dedicated, his fingers kept up a steady rhythm as his tongue sought out her copious juices.
“Never gonna tire of your taste,” he said, eyes fixed on the sight of her body swallowing his soaked digits. “Could eat your quim all day an’ still be hungry for more.” Absent-mindedly, Spike ran his tongue over his lips, unwilling to spare a single drop. “Your greedy little pussy’s squeezin’ me. It wants my cock, pet... wants me to come inside it and make you mine.” Mewling, Buffy threw her head back into the pillow as a ragged sob tore from her throat. “Bleedin’ Christ...” Spike hissed in a breath. “That’s it... purr for me, my little kitty.”
“Oh god!”
“Praisin’ the wrong man, sweetheart.”
“Spike!”
“That’s better.” He flashed a shit-eating grin and blew against her engorged nub. “An’ you still haven’t answered my question.”
Buffy swore she would wipe that smirk off his face if it was the last thing she ever did. “My clit,” she whispered through ground teeth, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. “Please... touch my clit.”
Without further delay, Spike wrapped his lips around her swollen pearl, sucking harshly as the tension coiled tighter within her body. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispered against her quivering flesh. Impulsively, he nipped at the aching bundle of nerves, and the unexpected burst of pleasured-pain sent her flying over the edge into a second blinding orgasm.
Trembling, Buffy fell back to the mattress, her sweat-slicked skin shimmering in the candlelight, and, grinning like a madman, Spike crawled up the bed to lie beside her. He rested his head on his fist and smoothed the other hand over Buffy’s stomach, calming her down, whilst simultaneously keeping the flames of passion simmering beneath the surface. Oh yes. She was his angel alright—his perfectly debauched angel... and she’d never been more beautiful.
Buffy smiled up at him, looking every inch the canary-stuffed cat. “Could you look any more pleased with yourself?”
“What can I say, love?” Spike replied with a wink. “You’re a vision.” Reaching up, he brushed the damp hair back from her brow. “So bloody beautiful when you come... I bet you never burned like that for those other nancy boys, did you?”
Buffy arched a tired brow. “I am so not answering that.”
“Admit it,” Spike said, circling his finger around a rosy nipple. “I’m the best you’ve ever had.”
“You’re so full of it!”
“You're fixin’ to be full of me pretty soon.”
“Pig.”
"Maybe so,” he chuckled, “but I reckon you’ll be the one squealin’.” Spike stared into Buffy's eyes, seeing nought but love and trust shining back at him. It was in that moment that he knew she saw him—really saw him—and he thought maybe he was wrong. Maybe he did deserve her after all. “I'll make you happy,” he promised, eyes sobering as he leaned down to ghost a kiss across her lips.
“I know,” she replied, “I know you will.” Smiling, her fingers twined in his curls, pulling him down as she deepened their embrace. “Mmm, Spike? About that impulsive streak...”
“What about it?”
She grinned impishly. “Don’t ever change.” Mingled laughter filled the air as they rolled around on the bed. “Hey,” Buffy said, pushing him up with a hand against his chest. “Why am I the only one naked here? You are wearing way too many clothes, mister.”
In a feat of vamp ingenuity, Spike disentangled himself, leaping off the mattress in a blink of an eye. Eagerly his hands fell to his belt buckle, yanking it apart as the pressure of his restrained erection urged the zipper down. Spike sighed in relief when he finally stood before her, proud, naked, wanting—always wanting when it came to her. Tossing his jeans, he re-joined Buffy on the bed, and with one hand fisted around his cock he knelt between her legs, slowly stroking himself as he revelled in the sudden acceleration of his girl’s heartbeat.
“See somethin’ you like?”
Was he serious? At this point, Buffy was worried she was about to drool all over his sheets! Nevertheless, payback was in order, and that ever-present smirk was in need of taking down a peg or two. Rising up, Buffy mirrored his position on the bed, reaching out to wrap her hand around his hard, needy erection. Spike hissed in a breath and dropped his head to her shoulder as he watched Buffy’s delicate fingers stroke his cock. A shudder of pure, unadulterated pleasure raced through him as she rubbed her thumb over his swollen head, gathering the sticky pre-come, and using it to lubricate her movements.
“Tell me what you like,” Buffy whispered, in awe of his reaction. “Tell me what you want.”
Spike threw his head back as she gave him a firm squeeze. “You,” he gasped. “Here... with me... touching me—fuck, kitten... jus’ like that.” His eyelids fluttered as he covered Buffy’s hand, guiding her in a slow, practised motion. Chest heaving, he sank back on his haunches, eyes shooting open when Buffy’s tongue swept along his weeping tip. “Look at me, love,” he said, his fingers raking through the spun gold of her hair. “You look so fucking good with that sexy little mouth wrapped around my cock.”
Spike groaned as Buffy took him into her throat, swallowing around his length, and soon he was panting—babbling nonsense about how bloody wonderful she was, how good it felt, and how he was never going to let her go. His cool demeanour fell by the wayside as Buffy’s heavenly mouth drove him half-way to distraction, but all too soon he could feel his balls tightening, and he was forced to urge her back.
Confusion flitted across Buffy’s features as he pulled away and eased her backwards. “Don’t wanna come in your mouth, pet—well...” he grinned, lowering her to the mattress, “not yet, anyway.” Spike’s erection nudged against her sensitised core, and Buffy cried out, arching upwards. “That’s it, sweetheart. Dance with me. Show me how well we move.” Reaching a hand between them, Spike positioned his throbbing cock at her opening, gazing deep into her eyes as he nudged forward. “I need you, love... Can’t wait any longer.”
Buffy moaned, her hands finding purchase at his shoulders. “Need you, too.”
“No lookin’ back, right?” Spike supported himself on his elbow, needing her to understand the significance of this moment. “Just forget it all—everythin’ that’s happened today—it doesn’ exist within these four walls. Focus on me, an’ the way I make you feel.” Buffy nodded, her eyes drifting closed in expectation of their joining. “No,” Spike said, kissing her brow. “Look at me, precious. Don't turn away.”
“I love you, Spike.”
There were no sweeter words to be heard.
“I love you, too,” he whispered against her lips, surging forward with one sure thrust until he was buried to the hilt in Buffy’s scorching body.
In an instant, coherent thought was a thing of the past. There was only one word going through Spike’s mind, and that was just fine by him—her name was the only word he wished to speak anyhow. Buffy tensed at the initial sting of his invasion, but there was no time to think before he was kissing her again, his hips taking on a leisurely rhythm of their own. Gasping, she arched beneath him, fingernails digging into his shoulders as she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Easy, kitten.” Spike nuzzled at the abused flesh until she relinquished her hold. He was barely hanging on, and he knew that the scent of her blood would send him over the edge. As it was, he already feared his performance would match that of a bleedin’ schoolboy. “Buffy—My God… so hot… so tight.” He paused to steal a kiss, swallowing down her moans and whimpers. “Does that feel good, love?”
Buffy nodded, gingerly rising up to meet Spike’s thrusts as her hands slid over the contours of his arms. “It’s been a while,” she whispered, fingers tangling in his hair. “Just go slow, okay?”
A while? Now that was the bloody understatement of the century. There was no way of telling how long she’d spent in heaven—timeless, she’d told him once—but now Buffy was here, loving him, and allowing him to love her in return. The sensation of being one with her was almost more than he could stand. Each heartfelt murmur against his lips, each time her body trembled in pleasure, was more than he’d ever imagined or hoped for.
“Don’t stop...” Buffy arched beneath him, her teeth grazing against his collarbone. “So good... so, so good...”
“All for you, love... Only for you.” Spike let his head drop to Buffy’s shoulder, his attention flitting between the sounds she made as he slid inside her, the feel of her silky walls constricting his cock, and the beautiful sight of the place where they were joined. As tears sprang to his eyes, Spike buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair as he placed a kiss on the vulnerable flesh. “You're mine, Buffy.”
“Yes...”
“Say it.”
“I-I’m yours... All yours, Spike.”
“How long?”
She grasped his head, forcing him to see the truth in her eyes. “Forever.”
Spike knew it was too soon to say it with blood, but he’d always been a selfish sod, and needed to hear the words from Buffy’s own lips. The fact that he was already hers didn’t need saying. Grinning, he kissed a path across her cheek, his mouth lingering at her fluttering pulse point. Buffy’s blood beckoned him like a siren’s call, and even though Spike knew he could control his demon, he didn’t want to tempt fate until he’d taken a bit more of the edge off.
“Ride me, kitten,” he said, rolling Buffy on top of him. “Much as I love the sight of you with your legs in the air, I wanna see those perfect titties bouncin’ for me.” Spike’s eyes were glued to the sight of their union as Buffy’s body welcomed his glistening cock. Groaning, his hands fell to her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust upwards. “So good, so beautiful... Love this. Love watchin’ you take me in. Can you feel that, pet? Feel me movin’ inside your tight little cunny.”
A soft whimper filled the air as Buffy’s palms fell to his chest. “You... So good—feels...” Eloquent as always, the Slayer slammed down hard against his throbbing length. “Perfect—unh... fit.”
Her walls rippled around his shaft, and Spike reached up to fondle her breasts. “You’re close again. I can feel it. Talk to me, love. Tell me who's makin’ you come.”
Buffy gasped, throwing her head back in unexpected release. “Spike! Oh god...”
Maybe he couldn't offer all the same things as a living, breathing bloke, but he could give her this. He could give her heaven on earth. Buffy’s internal muscles pulsed around him as she rode out her climax, and through no small miracle, Spike managed to stave off his own orgasm, mesmerised by the sight of his lover coming undone above him. He held back even though his body was burning for release, and rolled them over, grinding against Buffy’s mound as he prolonged her pleasure, her satiny walls strangling his dick as her body shuddered to completion.
“One more time,” Spike whispered against her sweaty brow, and her eye’s shot open in disbelief.
“I can’t,” Buffy panted. “There’s no way I can—”
Spike silenced her with a tender kiss. “Just relax,” he whispered, “let it happen. We’ll come together this time, I promise.” His eyes filled with the love and respect he felt for the incredible—if somewhat exhausted—woman in his arms. “Wrap your legs around me, kitten, I want to go deeper.”
Buffy groaned. “What legs?”
Didn’t he realise that he was already a part of her in every conceivable way? Her body, her mind... her heart. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t taken up by him. Eyes heavy, the Slayer fought to keep them open as Spike moved above her.
“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he whispered, as their tongues met in a languid dance. With each slow thrust Buffy’s breathing accelerated, and soft whimpers fell from her lips as she watched him, watching her. Nothing else mattered but this moment. Nothing else existed but the two of them. Each torn gasp frayed another strand of Spike’s limited restraint, and as his gaze focused on Buffy’s throbbing jugular—and the faded scars that adorned it—Spike could feel his demon rising to the surface. A growl rose in his throat and his eyes flashed amber as he ducked his head, ashamed.
“Spike?” Buffy’s hands cupped his face. “Look at me.”
“I’m sorry love... I didn’t mean to—”
“You told me not to hide,” she said, forcing him to meet her eyes. “That works both ways, Spike. Don’t turn away.”
A torrent of self-loathing washed over him as his gaze returned to her neck. “I want you so much,” he muttered. “Too much. My demon’s screamin’ at me—wants you marked as mine.” He swallowed hard, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “Sweetheart, I don’t—I can't risk hurtin’ you. I swore I'd be the man you deserved.”
If it were possible, Buffy felt herself falling just that little bit more. “Spike, I love you. All of you. Man and demon. I know you won't hurt me.” She peppered his face in soft, reassuring kisses. “It’ll be alright,” she said, before repeating his own words against his ear. “Let it happen... Let me see you.”
Buffy refused to shy away from his vampiric guise as she traced her fingers over his cheekbones and nuzzled against his forehead. Warily, Spike watched her with a golden gaze, and despite the fangs and bumpies that by all rights should fill her with terror, she saw the passion raging in his eyes. She saw the warrior. She saw the poet. She saw everything. Beneath the mask of a monster lay the man that loved her, and Buffy had nothing to fear from either.
“You’re beautiful,” she said, twining her fingers in Spike’s hair as they resumed their graceful dance. This was it. This was the kind of rapture that came with real love, and silent tears spilled down Buffy’s cheeks as she offered her body in supplication. “Bite me,” she whispered, losing herself in the sheer wonderment that flooded her vampire’s features. “Please, Spike... let me share this with you.”
There was no need for clarification, no room for fear or misgivings. Overwhelmed, Spike pressed a chaste kiss to Buffy’s jugular, before sinking his incisor’s into the chalice of her neck, drawing her life’s essence into his body as they soared together in a rapturous duet of completion.
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Chapter End Notes:
So there it was. The smuttiest smut I’ve ever smutted. I was reminded last week that I’ve made you wait almost two entire fics for our spuffy couple to get groiny, so I hope I didn’t disappoint with the nekkidness. As always, reviews are love, and you guys are made of win. *glomps you all*