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Spike and Toy were lying on his couch. She was wearing the pink tank top and shorts set she’d left at his place to dry. He had on his jeans and nothing else. Her feet were in his lap and he had just finished placing her, round, pink toes in a black, foam spacer.

“I didn’t think the first part of my body you’d want to touch would be my feet,” she said, mischief turning up the corners of her lips.

“It’s a bit of a fetish,” he said.

“I wish I’d known; I haven’t had a pedicure in three years,” she said.

“You never asked,” he said.

She looked guilty, her marred lips losing all sense of mirth. He cupped her right heel and rubbed the sole of her foot with firm fingers, making her toes flex despite being entrapped in the spacer. Her whole body seemed to arch toward him; her upper thighs tensed, her stomach sank with a sharp intake of breath and her breasts rose. Toy let out a moan that made him so hard it hurt.

He lifted her by the ankle and then licked the soft sole of her foot. It was unnaturally soft, baby soft. He’d washed her feet when they got started; that part always made him think of Mary Magdalen. She made fluttery noises of pleasure as he bathed her foot with his tongue. He kissed each one of her plump, rosy toes, relishing the way they looked wrapped by the spacer. When he set it down in his lap, she let out a whimper of protest, until he picked up the other foot and gave it the same attention.

“So, is this the freakiest thing you’re into?” she asked.

Spike picked up a bottle of polish from the coffee table. He had a vast array of nail enamel in a clear, plastic box that he kept under his bed. She’d selected a personal favorite of his, a pale, blue shade called “Ice Queen.”
He slapped the bottle on the palm of his hand.

“Well, pet, I’d say you’re the freakiest thing I’m into,” he said with a smirk.

“I guess you’re right,” she said, a blush spreading across her skin.

He twisted the black cap off the polish with a snapping sound and then he spread a thin coat of lacquer on her big toe.

“Am I the first man you ever did your number on, pet?” he asked.

He focused on not touching her cuticles with the brush. He was being careful, not avoiding her eyes, he told himself. Though his voice had a casual quality, the question was not. The idea had been gnawing at him from the start.

“You’re my first,” she said.

“And what made me so special?” he asked as he blew on her neatly painted nails.

She looked to the side and licked her lips. Spike picked up her other foot and set to coloring her toenails.

“You were so sweet with Mrs. Plissey and I’m pretty sure you know how hot you are. But mostly, I kept having these dreams about you, that you loved me, that we were living someplace warm where everyone spoke Italian—“

“Italy?” he asked, looking up from his task.

“That would make sense.”

“How long did you have your eye on me?”

“I’m not sure. I just know that the first time I saw you, it was raining and you were shaking out your umbrella in the lobby,” she said, shyly.

“I don't remember seeing you until New Year's,” he said.

“People only see me when I want them to, I’m like a ninja. Anyway, I was lonely and I got the feeling you were, too. It was supposed to be one time,” she said.

“But you couldn’t resist my Adonis-like appeal,” he said, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

Spike had finished her other foot and both of her them were resting on his lap.

“Or your humility,” she said, with a sad smile. “So what’s next on your list of demands?”

“Do you like Vietnamese food?” he asked.

***

The best Vietnamese restaurant in the city was only a block away. They didn’t deliver, and Spike was worried Toy would rabbit while he was picking up their lunch, but he risked the trip. When Spike returned with a paper bag filled with food underneath his long, leather jacket, he found that Toy had set the table. The sight of it inexplicably made him want to cry.

They filled the dishes she'd laid out, then tucked into fresh rolls and spicy noodles. Toy's meal wasn't quite as punishingly hot as Spike's; when she tried a forkful from his plate she'd had to gulp down half a pitcher of water before finally regaining the ability to speak.

“I should have known that if you liked it, then it would hurt,” she said.

“You think I enjoy pain?” he asked, with a chuckle.

“I know you do; I can feel you get harder every time I hurt you. Sometimes I push you just so you'll make a little noise,” she said, before she took another sip of water.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, setting down his fork.

“When we do stuff, you never make a sound. You even hold your breath right when you're about to finish. I sometimes wonder if I’m doing something wrong,” she said.

“No, you’re bloody brilliant. I didn’t even know, nobody ever told me that before,” he said.

He didn't want to tell her that he'd had to share a room with his sister when they were living with his mum. It had been humiliating for both of them when puberty descended. He had to wait until Tara was asleep to masturbate; he was fairly certain that's where his habit of cloistered breath started.

“So that's just you?” she asked.

Toy smiled at him with such warmth that he felt unworthy.

“Yeah, I ‘spose it is,” he said, suddenly feeling timid.

They finished the meal and carried their plates into the kitchen. A quiet anticipation had settled between them. He noticed that her movements seemed self-conscious, as though she was acutely aware of his gaze. As she was setting her dishes in the sink, Spike put his arm around Toy’s waist while his other hand encircled her slim wrist. Her fork clanged against her glass when she let it go; the sound seemed extraordinarily loud in the still room. She tipped her head back and he leaned forward until their lips met. They kissed until Spike was dizzy and he could feel Toy’s legs wobble. They went to the bedroom without a word.

She stripped out of her clothes and got on the bed, her knees sticking up and tightly shut. She watched him with a look of incredible trepidation as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off. He held the shirt for a second before opting to hang it back up in the closet. It was an inexplicable choice, something he’d never done before, but he’d had to find some way to escape that stare of hers. Spike took off the rest of his clothes with his back to Toy. He could feel her watching him as he walked to the dresser and took out a few condoms. He walked back toward her and dropped them on the bedside table; they landed with a soft crinkle. She looked at them and then back at Spike.

“Is that alright?” he asked.

“I said I’d do anything,” Toy said.

“That’s not what I asked you,” he said.

She folded her legs to her chest and peeked over them like a child.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never done this part before?” she asked.

Spike couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“I thought nothing you could say or do would shock, Toy, but here we are,” he said.

“Yeah, here we are.”

He sat on the bed beside her and took the girl into his arms. She absently ran her hands over his stomach and his chest, as though the feel of his skin soothed her.

“My ex-boyfriend, the one who cut me; he’s made it kind of hard to date. That’s the understatement of the century. Anyway, I was young when I met him and not super-experienced, mostly just kissing and over-the-clothes stuff. I didn’t even want to after what he did to me, for, like years. Then when I saw you, it changed,” Toy said.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“Could we get under the covers and could you hold me? Maybe if we go slow—“

“Whatever you want,” he said.

They went beneath the blankets and Spike wrapped himself around her. She initiated the first kisses, but he grew frustrated with her pace; Spike slid his tongue down her fragile neck and bit into the flesh.

He parted her legs with his and rubbed against her; she was so wet he couldn’t believe she was hesitating, but then, Spike had never been with a virgin before. He’d been with girls who had lied about it in the hopes of endearing themselves to him. It had been obvious, but he’d humored them. Part of him thought Toy might be playing the same game to maintain some sort of control. If she wasn’t, then Spike knew he was fucking up when he reached for the condom, but all of his patience had been spent.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded yes. He tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and then put it on under the covers. She had closed her eyes and didn’t open them when he got on top of her. He ran the head of his cock against the tight mouth between her legs. He was clumsy and over-eager; pleasure would open up her body. It was his fault that she couldn’t let him inside, he knew that and yet he didn’t slow down.

“Tell me your name,” he said, impulsively.

Her eyes opened.

“I can’t,” she said.

Spike pushed inside. It was just the tip, but her eyes bulged and she bit back a scream. Her fingers dug into his shoulders but he could hardly sense the pain. She was so tight; he’d never experienced anything remotely like the feel of this girl. Spike slowly sank into her, until their hips met; until they looked to all the world like they
were one creature. He gazed into her face but his ecstasy wasn’t mirrored in her expression.

Toy was in so much pain, tears were pooling in her eyes. He felt guilty for doubting her, for rushing what could have been a perfect. Spike kissed her lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No, I want to get it over with. It’ll feel good after this part’s over, right?”

Spike wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he didn’t. He pulsed his hips against her, barely going in and out. She made little noises in time with his movements. It felt so good he didn’t want to stop, but every time he caught a glimpse of her eyes his passion quelled. He tried to rub her clit but she winced.

“It’s too much,” she said.

“I’ll stop, love.”

“No, I want you to finish, please. Let me do this for you, Spike,” she said.

After the morning they’d had and the teasing pedicure, it didn’t take long. The orgasm went through him like a sunrise stretching across the sky. He panted, his breath stirring her hair.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, pet,” he said.

Spike stroked her face and he looked into her glowing, wet eyes. He brushed away the tears and she smiled up at him. It felt almost like she was smiling for the very first time. She touched his cheek.

“It’s O.K., I’m so glad it was you. Spike, I love you,” she said.

Spike couldn’t speak. Her warm smile shortened into a neutral line and the sorrow she'd cast away for that brief moment returned. She kissed the corner of his open mouth. He slid out of her and got up to dispose of the spent condom in the garbage can by the bed. His back was to her and she ran light fingers down the indentation of his spine, as though not wanting to break contact. Spike returned to her, lying beside her on the bed.

He couldn’t say it; he couldn’t give her the reassurance she wanted. He didn’t know what she did for a living, what she liked to eat or where she was born. He didn’t even know her name. There was only one thing he could promise her, one thing Spike knew he could provide.

“Next time, love, it will be perfect,” he said.


Chapter End Notes:
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