The whole afternoon she’d been ignored while everybody else was joining the excitement in the training room. Even Anya went back for a while and left Dawn in charge of the shop. It must be really, really, apocalyptically serious if Anya did that.
She had caught glimpses of soldiers through the door, but nobody explained anything. While she lingered near the door she’d heard snatches of conversations, while officially browsing through a magazine. Riley was mentioned, that she’d understood. But if he was here in person or if it was a general military thingy, she wasn’t sure…
She stamped down her foot, mentally at least, since she was sitting at the table, pretending to do her homework. She hated it when everybody treated her like a… like a dim-witted, unicorn-loving, not-Harmony twelve-year-old. She was fifteen – well, soon enough. Nearly grown up, in a kissable, teenager way. Her mind wandered to the new boy in her class, the one with the brown, unruly curls her fingers itched to comb through every time she looked at him. And she’d looked all the time during Algebra. She sighed. Even that didn’t calm her. She was sitting here, ignored again, and missing all the excitement.
A while ago, Tara had dropped by to pick up her bag and she’d told Dawn that she was on her way to Elin’s apartment to look after Willow and prepare supper. She was so glad, that Willow was doing better now.
Tara had told her that Willow was still weak as a kitten and sleeping a lot but they could leave her alone for a while now. She had asked several times about Buffy and Dawn, but Elin didn’t allow any visitors yet.
As usual, Xander had come by after work and was now leaning at the counter, watching Anya close the shop. The training room lay dark and deserted; Buffy, Giles and Elin must have gone out the backdoor. She’d watched Anya clean away the leftovers from a Locator Spell, but the ex-demon didn’t know where they’d gone either.
What were they doing? Why didn’t they come back? It was already dark outside.
She nearly screamed with relief when the doorbell announced the return of Buffy, Giles, and Elin. Dawn sprang up and rushed to her sister’s side.
“What’s going on, Buffy!? Common, tell! Do we have another apocalypse? Can I help?” Dawn tugged at Buffy’s sleeve in excitement.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Calm down, everything’s under control. Don’t worry, Dawnie, you’re safe.”
Dawn’s chin came up belligerently. “I’m not worried. I want to help! Why do you still treat me like a baby? I’ve staked a vampire and I brought you all back from another universe.” She nearly stamped her foot for real but stopped just in time. That wouldn’t prove her point of being a grown up.
Buffy’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Dawn, I’ll tell, I promise. But first I’ve to organize the clean-up.”
Buffy turned to the room and the expectant faces of her friends. “Ok, here’s the situation. The soldiers are gone, hopefully for good. We’ve inherited a truck full of demon eggs and the idiot who auctioned them on eBay. It turned out that Sam and her troops came here to get the hatchling’s venom for their anti-demon weapons project, but their local help turned on them and tried to cut himself a better deal. He’s safe and secured in Spike’s crypt.”
As it was clear that Buffy had finished her status summary, Giles cleared his throat and added, “Riley tried to setup Spike as the scapegoat for the mission.”
“What?” Xander spluttered. “Riley tried what? Are you sure that Spike wasn’t involved in the deal? Riley’s an honorable guy, he wouldn’t do that.”
“We’re sure Spike wasn’t involved in any way, Xander,” Giles interrupted the carpenter. “Riley beat up Spike and imprisoned their accomplice. The boy - Warren - told us that Finn threatened to leave him behind with the hungry hatchling and an unconscious Spike.”
“Oh, c’mon! You’re gonna take a stranger’s word for it? He must be lying!” Xander insisted. “Riley would never hurt or kill another human. He’s a hero. Look what he’d went through to help us with the Initiative.”
Giles frowned. “I really hope Riley only wanted to intimidate Warren. Xander, Riley isn’t the person we knew anymore and his wife has no good influence on him either.”
“Wife?” Confused, Xander looked around.
“He got married three months ago. She’s his commanding officer.” Buffy stated dryly.
Dawn was listening intently. So, Riley really came back. She would’ve had some words in store for him, and not friendly ones. She’d seen how miserable Buffy had been after he’d left her. He hadn’t wasted any time to find himself a wife; obviously he hadn’t missed her sister a lot. Dawn had never really liked the hulk; she had only put up with him since he was Buffy’s boyfriend. He hadn’t been very talkative around her and treated her like she was a toddler. And he’d hated Spike – wait!
“How’s Spike? Is he hurt, Buffy?” she anxiously assaulted her sister.
Buffy wrapped her arm around Dawn’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dawnie. Spike got a punch in his nose, but Riley isn’t pimped-up anymore, so it wasn’t too bad. His super-vamp healing will see to that.”
“Why is it always his nose?” Dawn muttered under her breath. “Now that you finally stopped…”
Buffy squeezed her wordlessly and turned her attention back to the group. “Let’s start simple. What should we do with the demon eggs? I don’t feel very comfortable about destroying them.”
“We could give them back to their clan. They…” Anya suggested.
“Whoa! Why can’t we just destroy them? They are demons, right? That would be simple and they wouldn’t be a threat anymore. You said they’re poisonous.” Xander interrupted.
“Xander, you can’t just kill children!” Anya protested. “They’re poisonous because otherwise they might not survive to adulthood. They aren’t dangerous if you just leave them alone! The clan I know is living in seclusion deep in the National Parks around Mount Olympus. They don’t interact with humans if they can help it. There is plenty of game and they have an arrangement with the local werewolf clans about their leftovers. There are just some quarrels with a ridiculous, sparkling family of daywalkers…” Anya stopped her lecture as Giles cleared his throat. “Anyway, they cherish their offspring and I’m sure they’ll take in the orphaned eggs and hatch them properly. They propagate rarely in our universe, so they will agree to all conditions.”
“That sounds like a good idea, Anya.” Buffy agreed. “Can you contact them? And we’ll need someone to drive the truck up there.”
“That’s not a problem at all. I can drive the truck.” Giles suggested. “We’ve to pick up a substantial delivery from a supplier in Seattle anyway, so we can save the shipping charges. It’s a long drive, I know, but I wouldn’t entrust the cargo to someone else.”
“Since when did we change sides? Now we are what? Demons saviors, pampering their offspring? I thought we fight evil demons…” Xander stared accusingly at Buffy and Giles.
Resignedly, Giles pushed his glasses with his index finger up his nose. “Xander, the hatchlings are not evil. Evil means to deliberately harm innocents. No creature is evil in its nature; evil is defined by behavior. Riley’s accomplices killed the Suvolte demons and abducted their eggs to process them into weapons. Look at it that way and think about who’s evil and who’s not. I feel ashamed for what Riley did, which is why I want to help and bring the eggs up to Mount Olympus.”
“Ok, let’s save the cute little babies,” Xander backed down. “I can’t just stand by and look like a jerk. I’ll come with you, Giles. You shouldn’t drive over 2,000 miles all by yourself.”
With a squeak of delight, Anya swung her arms around Xander’s neck and hugged him. “I knew you’d understand!”
“Now we’ve only got this Warren guy left to worry about. There isn’t much we can do. Legally, he did nothing wrong, so we can’t hand him over to the authorities, but he didn’t strike me as a law-abiding citizen. He’s the one who built and abandoned the robot-girl last year.”
“Oh, was that the girl that threw Spike through the window?” Xander’s gaze got dreamy as he relived the moment. “That was classic. You really can’t see that often enough; wouldn’t mind a repeat performance. Didn’t he also build the Buffy-bot for Spike?”
Buffy frowned at her friend. “The robots are not the problem here. But this guy has technological talent and very questionable morals. Apparently, he also owns a powerful laser gun. We have to let him go, but we should keep an eye on him. My guts tell me that he’ll stir up more than dust in the future.”
With a bang, Spike placed his long, heavy-booted legs on his coffee table. He stretched, cracked his neck and studied the boy who was shifting nervously on the battered easy chair. He hadn’t seen the git in a while, not after the Scoobies repossessed his robot. The tosser hadn’t changed; he still looked like a little weasel - no backbone.
“So, ‘The Doctor’, eh?”
Spike’s sudden question startled Warren who protectively pulled up his bound legs and looked at him with wary eyes.
“Huh?”
“You called yourself ‘The Doctor’, right? You’re a fan? Bloody brilliant series that, a shame it dropped off in the eighties after Tom Baker left.”
Warren tried to smooth down his gelled, spikey hair with his duct tape bound hands. “It was Andrew’s idea. He has all the DVD’s. I’m more an Avengers fan. All those fashion model heroines - the tight costumes and the D-sized boobs alone can save my day. My favorite is Black Widow.”
Warren paused and the silence stretched on. “What’re you doing with me? Can’t you just let me go and tell them I escaped?” He held out his arms pleadingly.
Chuckling, Spike leaned back. “And why should I do that? You think I’m a moron? My lady said you should stay put, so you stay put.”
“Hey, common, Spike. We’re old pals; didn’t I make you the robot for free?” Warren grinned slyly. “All the special gymnastic programming. Did I get it right? Seems like the real one is more trouble than she’s worth. That verbal beat down she gave the soldier, you don’t hear that very often. She’s a sassy one. Not much in the front department, but a nice ass.”
Spike’s growl echoed through the crypt as he jumped up and bent menacingly over the boy. “If you ever open your gob again about my girl, you’ll stay put forever – like in forever dead.”
“Ok, ok, ok! No need to be that touchy. I just thought, after those very specific programs I installed for you, that she was just a f…” After another warning growl, Warren sank back into the cushions and kept his gob shut.
Spike leaned back on the couch, his brow wrinkled in annoyance. That damned robot had been one of his major mess-ups. What had he thought he would accomplish with it? After the first role-playing games it went stale very quickly. The sex had been great – if you like fucking inflatable dolls.
He hadn’t been able to keep up the pretense that the piece of wire and plastic was anything like his Slayer. No fire, no banter, no punch in his nose; just that daft, mindless grin all the time. After he’d enjoyed the real thing smiling at him with affection in her sparkling eyes, he couldn’t believe that he ever even looked at the vile thing. Thank God it had been damaged during the fight against Glory and was now packed away safely in a crate in Buffy’s basement. After the flooding from the pipes disaster it hopefully was ruined beyond repair.
His gaze unfocused as he thought about the promise Buffy had given him tonight. He wouldn’t mess up this time, no way. No chaining up in his crypt – at least not the first time. His gaze flickered over to the bunch of candles stacked on the sarcophagus. He smiled. This time he was prepared to treat his girl like she deserved.
Quietly, Buffy entered the crypt. She raised her eyebrows at the cozy sight. Warren was snoring softly in the chair, drool running down his chin, smudging the headrest. Spike lounged on the comfy couch, one leg thrown over the arm rest, watching some soap opera - Passions? - on his TV. His head turned around and he greeted her with a soft, happy smile that lit up his features.
“Seen them off for good, luv?”
Buffy nodded and sat down beside him. “All gone with the wind, hopefully never to return. You alright?”
“Still a bit woozy, but nothing serious. You had a right good timing, pet.”
Buffy shuddered. “Got lucky…” She pointed at the still sleeping boy. “Have you gotten any information out of Mr. Stupid?”
“Not much. He has a pal called Andrew, who’s a Doctor Who fan. Otherwise, he’s a snotty, misogynic bastard.” Spike snorted.
Buffy had to grin. Trust Spike to have controversial priorities. “That’s interesting, but I mean about the deal with the demon eggs.”
“Oh, right. He and his pal were answering an Internet ad, got attacked by the Suvolte then asked for more money. When that was rejected, they moved the eggs and tried to sell them on the open market.” Spike shrugged. “The nerd only had a contact address; he didn’t even know that he was dealing with the military. What will you do with the eggs?”
“We’re giving them back to their clan. It was feeling too much like genocide for me to destroy them. Anya has contacts, as usual.” Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m so tired…”
“Let’s wake wonder-boy and send him on his way.” Spike stood up and shook Warren who jerked awake, hands flailing.
Buffy went over to the boy and folded her arms resolutely. “The military is gone, the eggs too. So, go home, keep what money you already got, and keep quiet. It’s in nobody’s best interest if the gossip machine is running. Most importantly, keep clean from now on. No more dealings in demons whatsoever in my town. Understood?”
Warren looked up at her with a sullen expression. “I didn’t do anything wrong…”
“Legally, no. But you brought the military down on us, killed two demons and forced us to clean up your mess. Be glad you came out of it unscathed. If there’s a next time, you won’t be so lucky, I guarantee that.” Buffy glared at the nerd. “Spike, remove his cuffs.”
As Spike cut through the duct tape, Warren eyed the huge knife with distrust. He rubbed his hands and hastily scrambled out of his chair. In the doorway he looked back. “The money didn’t cover my expenses, where do I get reimbursed? You could at least give me some of the eggs.”
“I don’t care if your deal went sour. I’m not responsible for that. Shut up and go home.” Buffy replied angrily.
Spike stepped behind her and looked menacingly at the boy. “Next time think about the consequences first. Now, get outta my crypt before I charge you for slobbering on my bloody chair.”
With a resonating bang the door closed behind Warren as he left without a further word.
Buffy stared at the closed door, her brow crinkled in annoyance. Strong arms sneaked around her waist, pulling her backwards against Spike’s hard body.
“Ungrateful bastard.” Spike’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Don’t mind him. He’s a pathetic loser.”
Buffy leaned her head back at his chest and sighed. “What happened to the day? It had such a good start…”
Cool lips whispered over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Luv, relax. They aren’t worth it. You’ve saved the day again,” Spike chuckled. “They didn’t stand a chance against you.”
Buffy turned in his embrace and placed her head against his shoulder. She wasn’t really physically tired, but she felt drained and disoriented. The day had brought her so many ups and downs, tips and turns, that now her head was dizzy.
“I never expected to see Riley again – I didn’t know how to react to him - he was like a stranger. Did I really ever know him?” Buffy looked up into Spike’s eyes and found understanding and compassion there. “I don’t think I ever really got him, never understood what drove him, what motivated him. He seemed so…” She wrinkled her nose. “… so unable to think for himself.”
“Sorry, luv, no support here. I always thought soldier-boy was a bloody idiot. To run away and leave you?” Spike dipped his head down and nuzzled at her temple.
A choked sound escaped Buffy’s throat and a tear ran down her cheek. Softly, Spike kissed it away. “Just let it go, pet.” His hand caressed her head, his fingers softly combing through her golden locks.
Some invisible bond snapped inside her chest and she wept for the boyfriend she never had really known and all the beliefs she still held onto. She finally acknowledged what they were – illusions of a life she never believed in, a normal life as a normal girl. Why had she been so blind to believe in that? Was it because Angel left her to give her a ‘normal life’ and all the hurt of their parting would have been in vain if she didn’t try to achieve that?
She wept on, silent tears running down her cheeks, wetting Spike’s shirt. He held her firm, a quiet and steadfast support. His large hands rubbed her back in endless, calming circles.
Finally, Buffy raised her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so weepy… You must think I’m a hysterical, hormonal lunatic.”
“Shh, luv.” Spike pressed a soft kiss at her temple. “You’re not a lunatic. I’m an expert on crazy.” He chuckled softly. “Believe me, you’re completely sane.”
He placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness. “It’s been a long, emotional day for you. Should I walk you home now?”
“How can you be so – understanding?”
Spike tilted his head, a slight smile curling his lips. “One thing I’d learned over the years is patience. You said you want me, so I can wait.”
Buffy blushed.
She leaned closer and folded her arms around his waist and slipped her hands under his t-shirt. The skin of his back felt smooth and silken under her probing fingers.
“I really want to spend the night with you…” she murmured. “Only - I’m not sure I can do it right now.”
Spike’s fingers twirled a lock of her hair and smoothed it over her shoulder. The back of his hand caressed her cheek and slipped under her chin. With gentle pressure he raised her head. Their gaze locked and Buffy saw his eyes darkening as hidden shadows of desire broke through the surface of the cerulean blue sea.
“Why don’t you stay with me, rest a bit. We can take it as slow as you want. If you’re tired, lay down in my arms and I’m in heaven.” His voice was a soft, warm temptation.
Buffy sighed and gave in to the luring call. “Tara’s looking after Dawn and she knows where I’ll, uhmmm, be tonight.” Tentatively, she loosened her grip on Spike and turned towards the coach.
His hand, placed on her elbow, stopped her motion. “I’ve something better to offer than this battered coach, luv.”
Was Spike actually shuffling his feet? What had he done that made him so self-conscious? Buffy raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Okay… where do you want me to go?”
He entwined his fingers with her hand and pulled her gently around the corner of the sarcophagus towards the trapdoor to the underground den.
Buffy eyed the opening, memories surfacing of her last stay down there. “Shackles?” she teased.
Spike chuckled, “Better!”
Spike looked up at Buffy from the bottom of the ladder, his face a white blur in the darkness. “Give me a second to light some candles, luv.”
A soft, flickering, orange glow began to illuminate the floor below in warm, red and brownish colors. Buffy’s memories of the catacomb were of an earth-trampled floor and rough walls with protruding tree roots and half buried caskets.
At Spike’s call, she turned and slowly climbed down the sturdy ladder into his waiting embrace. When she tried to turn, his arms stopped her.
“Close your eyes, pet.”
As Buffy obliged, she was swung up. Giggling softly, she folded her arms around his neck. With quick strides, Spike carried her further into the room and let her feet slide back to the ground.
He kissed both her eyelids and the tip of her nose. “Open your eyes, luv.”
She blinked.
The walls were still earthen, but there the resemblance with her memories stopped. Carpets in rich colors of reds and blues covered most of the ground in luxurious layers; wall hangings obscured some of the rougher patches on the walls. A casket was still protruding from the wall, but it was covered in a rainbow colored rag and heaped with throw pillows in clashing colors and designs.
Everywhere candles were burning, their flickering, golden light creating a comfy atmosphere.
A wooden shelf at the far wall held an assortment of battered books; an armchair in front of it with a shaded lamp on a side table offered a comfortable reading place. In a corner, a Chinese folding screen beside a roomy cabinet partly obscured an opening into a side chamber.
The room was dominated by a huge, brass bedstead with dark red, silken sheets and pillows. Beside it was a bedside dresser with rows of drawers.
When had he refurbished this room? This was - breathtaking. She never had expected Spike to own such a tasteful and comfortable place. The tapestry and furniture looked worn and were partly mended, but that didn’t lessen the effect. In New York they’d pay big money for it and call it ‘shabby chic’.
With an astonished gaze Buffy looked up at Spike. His eyes were twinkling in the candlelight and a proud smile adorned his face. “This is…” She shook her head. “When did you fix all this?”
Spike chuckled, a low, pleased sound. “Common luv, you haven’t seen the best part yet.” He pulled her by her hand around the bed and towards the opening behind the screen. Through a narrow archway they entered – a bathroom. It was like no bathroom she’d ever seen before, but it deserved the name.
The clay floor was set in smooth, flat river rocks, sloping towards a drain at the side under a modern shower head. A screen of woven hazel twigs obscured a flush toilet. A big, enameled bowl and pitcher on a stand provided a washbasin with multi-colored, fluffy towels hanging on pegs beside it on the wall. Over the washstand was a huge, partly age-stained mirror in an intricately carved, gold-leafed wooden frame.
Buffy turned and hugged Spike enthusiastically. “You did all this for me?” There couldn’t be any other explanation. Why would Spike need a mirror and a toilet? “How… When…”
“Guess you like it? It’s a bit primitive, I know, but you have hot water and electricity. I thought you could use it to clean up after patrol. Clem helped me fix it; he’s a genius with pipes.”
“Oh, this was what you talked about when we met him! You worked on this all that time?” Buffy was overwhelmed.
With a cheeky smirk, Spike explained. “Kitten, if you let me have my wicked ways with you, I thought you might need a place to freshen up before you went home. Old Boy Scout motto: be prepared.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” Buffy asked.
“Nah, that was after my time; thank God. Would’ve hated it,” Spike chuckled.
He pointed to the side where there was an empty pipe sticking up through the ground. “I’m not finished yet; I want to add a bathtub. What do you think, luv? Ya like a huge, roomy one or maybe a Jacuzzi? I could scrub your back…”
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow seductively and curled his tongue behind his teeth.
Buffy giggled. “Only my back? How disappointing…”
“We could look for a tub together,” Spike suggested hopefully and Buffy hugged him again. In this playful mood he was just adorable.
“That’s why my boots were all muddy. You never doubted me.” He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Dunno how to thank you for that.”
A big yawn shook Buffy out of her stupor. It was all so much to take in. Spike had prepared them a lover’s nest. That was flattering, sweet, and somewhat cocky at the same time, just so typically Spike. She smiled sleepily.
“Let’s get you some kip, pet.” Spike swung her into his arms again and carried her back to his bed. He carefully lowered her onto the mattress and knelt down to remove her shoes and socks.
Buffy sank back into the soft cushions with a sigh. Her eyelids fluttered in fatigue and she closed them thankfully. The last thing she remembered was the dip of the mattress as Spike slid in beside her and folded her in his arms. Her head bedded on his shoulder, sleep finally overwhelmed her.
Buffy woke to the dim light of a flickering candle.
A soft blanket was covering her and her left leg was thrown over some firm obstacle. The fabric under her cheek and right hand was simple cotton, smelling of tobacco with a hint of sweat and dust.
Spike!
She slowly, carefully, lifted her head and studied him. He was leaning against the headrest, eyes closed. His long, dark lashes lay feather light against his white skin. Why did men have such luscious lashes and all her costly mascara never worked up to its promise?
He looked so peaceful, his expressive face now resting, relaxed in sleep and looking so young and innocent. His left arm was thrown around her waist, his fingers splayed out over her hipbone.
Startled, she noticed that his chest was unmoving under her hand; he lay completely motionless beside her. She rested her head against his chest again and thought about that. Spike was a vampire, of course he didn’t need to breathe, but he did it all the time. Was that why he always looked so alive, so filled to the brim with scintillating energy? Also, why didn’t it creep her out that he seemed dead to the world, lying beside her like a string puppet, abandoned by its animator?
A sigh suddenly heaved his chest and his voice rumbled, “Like what you see?”
Surprised, her head jerked up again and her eyes looked into his dark blue pools, sparkling with suppressed laughter.
“You were awake! That’s so not fair,” she chastised him, swatting his chest lightly with her hand. “How late is it?”
“Sun’s not up. How do you feel?” His hand moved slowly up her side until his thumb caressed the underside of her breast.
Buffy moved slightly and his thumb now rubbed over her nipple which hardened instantly under his caress. “Hmmm, rested,” she mumbled and rubbed her cheek on his chest. She shifted her leg experimentally and hit a hard object confined under the rough fabric which elicited a low growl from Spike.
She smiled and moved her hand downwards under the blanket. Her palm rubbed over his erection and she could feel his cock jump, pressing against its confines. Her fingers curled and cupped around the prominent bulge.
As she lifted her head with an inviting grin, Spike’s lips latched hungrily onto her mouth. His tongue slid between her open lips and demanded entry, which she gladly gave. He licked and caressed her lips and tongue while pressing his erection harder into her hand.
Boldly, Buffy slid her hand up and followed the line of soft hair up to his belly button and down again, slipping her fingertips under his waistband. It was too tight to feel more than the coarse hairs of his pubic bone. Spike shifted slightly and the tip of her index finger slid over the silken, slick tip of his head.
With another growl into the cavern of her mouth his hand abandoned her breast and started to open his belt buckle.
Buffy firmly pushed Spike’s hand aside and straddled his hips. With a triumphant grin she looked down at Spike who lay back, panting. She licked her lips and his eyes hungrily followed every movement of her tongue.
She felt energized, in control, and very, very desirable. Spike’s gaze devoured her, like she was the cup of water offered to a parched wanderer. She’d never felt so self-confident with a man before.
Her hands slid his t-shirt up and she admired his firm, flat stomach and finely chiseled abs with the single line of light brown hair; her gaze followed it expectantly downwards. She yanked at his belt and opened the buckle. The top button popped under her fingers and she eagerly slid down the zipper. Freed, his cock jumped out and bobbed against her hand.
“Oh!”
He chuckled. “I always go commando.”
Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around his full length and ran her thumb tentatively along the slit, rubbing the white, pearly liquid over his tender skin.
Spike’s eyes closed in pleasure. “You’re killing me, luv!”
Full of pride, Buffy laughed out loud. “You’re already dead, Spike.” She moved her hand down his length, her grip firm around his steely shaft.
“Your hand’s so bloody hot, burning me, it is. I’ll combust.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Quicksilver fast, Buffy shuffled down his legs and bent over. Her lips closed over his tip and her tongue whirled around the sensitive rim. Spike’s hips bucked under her and his body convulsed.
“Fuck!”
She watched as his eyes opened wide and his dark pupils swallowed the gleaming blue. His hands tangled in her hair, gently holding it away while he reverently watched her mouth sucking in as much of his length as she could hold.
With a ‘plop’ Buffy release his prick and leaned upward to kiss him, his pre-cum still salty on her tongue. Her whole body was now tingling, her nipples hard and straining against the fabric of her simple cotton bra. All fatigue was forgotten, she was finally ready to consume this delicious, delectable man.