So she found she was desperate enough to ask him to join her for a meal. She didn’t like to call herself desperate, but that was the driving force which had given her courage to ask Spike if he wanted to get some food. Together.
Not on a date, that was for sure. But together.
She just hoped he didn’t ask her about what was hurting her again, Buffy hadn’t even realized there was a giant dark cloud hanging over her head all of the time. It was true she’d stopped caring about how she came off to people, though; and she certainly didn’t skip around and smile much anymore.
Spike being able to read her like a book, whichever way he managed to flip the proverbial pages, didn’t sit well with Buffy. She liked talking to him, but she still wasn’t sure about this budding trust she had growing in her heart for him. As if she could talk to him about her pain without actually losing him.
She didn’t feel it was possible, for so many reasons; and yet, a small helpful (or wicked, she wasn’t sure) voice told her to take tiny steps and trust him. Trust whatever this thing was between them. Whether it be attraction or… just some strange bond, a weird understanding of one another. Buffy’s gut was telling her she could trust it.
And she was just lonely enough to take a step in trying.
“Come in. You can put your coat by the radiator to dry.” Buffy closed the door behind him.
Spike slipped off his duster as he looked around the living room, his eyes zeroing in on the soft embroidered couches. He wondered if they were why Buffy had chosen that pink chaise lounge at the library to occupy every time she visited. Maybe they reminded her of this place, of home.
The living room was small, not very cramped but not very roomy either. The two matching antique couches looked aged but well taken care of. A rectangular coffee table with a glass top rested in between them, a filled bookcase lined half a wall above the fireplace, and a long radiator sat beneath three windows. Pictures were everywhere, from the mantel of the clearly not recently used fireplace, to the walls that were otherwise bare asides from warm amber wallpaper.
Quaint and homey. Those were the words that came to Spike’s mind as he looked at the living room. It was nice. He felt comfortable here, it wasn’t impersonal and cold like the homes he hated. It was lived in, delicate and comforting. Welcoming.
He still didn’t know how he’d gotten an invitation without having to coerce Buffy into saying the words. Just his luck, he guessed.
Not like he deserved it, but he wasn’t going to question it either.
“Where’d you say I could put this, pet-” Spike broke off when he turned around and Buffy wasn’t there. He never even heard her slip out.
Wet leather coat in hand, the man frowned and poked his head around a corner, looking into the dark and mostly bare dining room. She still had to be in the house, he would feel it if she wasn’t.
He hung his duster on the mantel near the radiator, uncaring if the leather got a little dry near the heat. It was wet from the rainwater anyhow.
Spike slowly walked into the dining room. There was a large wooden table in the middle, bare except for a vase of flowers. Matching chairs surrounded the table, and a china cabinet filled with pretty glassware and some pictures stood almost to the ceiling. There were windows on the east wall with pink curtains that touched the floors. The space was immaculate.
Continuing on, Spike kept silent. He was gently perusing, not touching but viewing. Buffy, wherever she was, would come out soon he was sure. In the meantime he was going to look around. He was unrepentantly curious.
Reaching a small kitchenette that was separated from the dining room by only a door, Spike pushed on through and savored the sweet smell of honeysuckle. A window by the sink was open, and he looked outside to see a well cared for herb garden growing in a small planter box.
A door which Spike quickly figured out led up to the attic was just on his right. When he turned around he saw a short hallway that connected to a small porch with large windows on every wall.
He saw another door that was off to the left of the kitchen’s entryway, and he walked ahead to open it.
A room with a desk and matching swivel chair was what met him on the other side; two sets of shelves that were lined with books and nik naks stood against the deep brown walls. There were framed photographs hanging, an area rug in the middle of the floor, and windows on both sides of the desk.
It looked like something out of an old movie, there was no dust to be seen or breathed, but the entire room was aged. Papers lie spread out on the writing table, as if waiting for someone to come and organize them. The whole study almost looked preserved, but seemed used at the same time. It was comforting and mysterious all in one.
Off to the right and left were a door each. Spike moved to the one farthest from him and opened it to see a well kept and large bedroom. It was obviously Buffy’s grandmother’s. The bedspread was soft looking and floral print. The wallpaper was clean and cream in color. Facing the bed was a tall mirror attached to a chest of drawers. Lotions and a few glass bottles of perfume rested on the surface, a tissue box and three black and white photos sat neatly in their places, and there was a closet to Spike’s left.
Not Buffy’s room. Spike closed the door quickly and turned to face the other one he’d yet to touch. Walking toward it he quietly twisted the knob and found a short hallway and a little linen closet. The hallway led to a bathroom, which was attached to another room. An open doorway stood before him, but it didn’t stay empty for long.
Buffy emerged, her hair was finally down, though it was wet and being wrung out with a towel. She had changed from her soaked clothes into a pair of sweatpants and another pullover. Spike idly wondered if all the shirts she owned were large, practically overbearing sweaters.
Not that he was complaining, she was cute as hell standing in front of him all cozied up with her cheeks and nose red from the weather. Finally he got to see those tresses loose, though they were still wet from the rain. Spike smiled without thought, but then he saw her scowl as she tugged the damp towel away from her head.
“You took the scenic route,” she said a little accusingly.
“What?”
“There’s another door to my room,” she walked backwards, silently beckoning him to follow her. He did and was led into her bedroom, her small and sweet space which, apparently, had another entrance.
“Right here. You didn’t have to go through the kitchen and the study just to find me.”
She seemed annoyed, which Spike figured was because she probably deduced that he’d been giving himself a tour of the place. And yet he’d missed the second door located in the dining room. “Sorry, love. Didn’t know where you went.” He shrugged.
Buffy’s frown didn’t leave her face but its reason seemed to change. Walking back to the bathroom and brushing past him, she tossed her towel on the sink and grabbed a dry one.
“Here,” she handled it over. “Your clothes look dry but you can use this to take care of your hair.”
Spike’s brow wrinkled but he took the towel, smiling hesitantly as he started rubbing his curls with it. “Thanks, dove.”
*DOVE? Jeez, what’s with this guy and nicknames?* Trying not to show how he was affecting her, Buffy turned around and went out through the bathroom door, telling Spike to follow.
He did, thankful that she’d gone first so the girl wouldn’t get a glimpse of his lack of reflection.
That’d be a fun little road to go down now wouldn’t it?
Spike rolled his eyes. God he hoped there weren’t any crosses just lying about.
“Do you want… um, I’m not really sure what we have actually.” Buffy nibbled her lip, unknowingly causing Spike’s gaze to zero in on the action.
She opened the fridge door and frowned. “I could make sandwiches,” she shrugged, her little absentminded pout making Spike smile again.
“Sounds just fine, love.”
She grinned then, a little happiness finally coming back into her eyes as she pulled out what looked like turkey and mustard. “What do you like on it?”
She wasn’t a cook. Her Grams was the cook, but Buffy wasn’t horrible at it, and a simple sandwich was no problem at all. She just hoped Spike wasn’t too picky, there really wasn’t much in the refrigerator that didn’t require chopping or mixing or cooking of some kind.
“Anything. M’not hard to please.”
She turned to face him, something in his voice catching her attention. He was watching her intently, he still held the towel in his hand and was looking her over in almost calm contentment... it seemed.
It wigged her out.
“Want any help?” He asked.
She swallowed- *No Buffy, that was a gulp.* -and shook her head before spinning away from his eyes. “No. It’s okay.”
As she prepared the food, Spike stared closely. He didn’t need the meal, but even being a vampire he still got cravings for regular foods sometimes, mostly spicy and sweet stuff, or things that had a particular texture he liked. He was choosy but he did have one tracked taste buds, after all. A sandwich wasn’t normally a non-nutritional treat for him, but Spike would still eat it.
“Mustard and tomato?” Buffy asked, not turning to face him.
“Sure,” he said, smiling when he heard her heart rate pick up. Out of all the things in this kitchen, Spike mostly wanted to get a taste of the young woman standing before him. He’d been tempted to sample the girl’s blood ever since her scent became a fragrance to compare all other aromas.
Before the library, he hadn’t been near her long enough to be tempted- Well, more than natural for a vampire on a strictly bagged diet. Ever since first seeing Buffy he’d known her blood would be sweet, though. He’d just sensed it, but then her scent had proven the guess and spiced up temptation.
No one could smell that lovely and taste bitter or bland. It wasn’t possible, and hadn’t happened once in his long line of human tastings. Spike always knew what someone’s flavor would be like before he took a sip.
And Buffy? Oh Christ he wanted a sample.
“Do you want water, milk, or lemonade?”
“Hmm,” he asked, not paying attention to what she’d said.
She spun to face him, a soft smile on her lips. “What would you like to drink?”
*You.* Spike shook his head, forcing the thoughts of blood and how sweet a delectable little blonde might be from his mind. “Um... Water’s fine, love.”
She nodded and went to fill a couple glasses, dropping ice cubes in before bringing the drinks to the table. She felt a little blush creep up her cheeks and fought it down as best she could. She didn’t know why she felt on display, but it probably had to do with the fact that Spike was practically studying her like some scientist with a microscope.
The domesticity of the moment didn’t escape her, but Buffy chose to ignore it just the same. Way too weird to be thinking of someone you barely knew, but-kind-of-do-because-you-guys-have-this-strange-connection-thing, in a homey husband-wifey kind of way
*Whoa wait a minute! Wifey? Husbandy? What the hell is wrong with me, there is nothing marital about this or him or me or- UGH! Just serve the damn food, Buffy.*
She tried her hardest to shake away the disturbing thoughts and set down two plates with turkey sandwiches. She took a breath and hoped he didn’t notice the way she was suddenly starting to avoid eye contact.
“Where’d you get the locket, love?” He practically murmured the inquiry as he picked up his sandwich and went to take a bite, his bluer than blue eyes never leaving her throat.
Buffy subconsciously touched the jewelry in question, her heart rate slowing as dreadful thoughts and memories threatened to float to the surface. She fought them down and didn’t respond for a minute.
Spike must have sensed her discomfort because abruptly he drew her attention back with an almost soothing tone of voice. “Hey, s’alright f’you don’ want ta tell me, y’know.”
Buffy jerked back to herself in less than a second. “I know,” she stated with just enough confidence to her voice that Spike had to fight back a grin. He liked it better when she was lively rather than quiet.
“It was my mom’s.”
Her unreadable expression that accompanied the admission had Spike instantly deciding it would be wise to tread lightly here. “It’s pretty,” he said. “Looks similar to something I once saw before. A long time ago.”
She nodded, not quite sure how to continue the conversation. Then she spotted the rings on his fingers. She pointed to them. “You like jewelry too, huh?” There was a little tease in her voice.
Spike looked down at his metal adorned hand and smirked. “Yeh,” he half laughed. “Sorta do, they look even better when the nails are black.”
Buffy smiled as a laugh spilled forth. “Black as in nail polish?”
He nodded before taking another bite of his sandwich.
Buffy scoffed, though there was no condescension behind it. “Okay,” she said with raised hands, as if just willing to accept the fact that he liked doing his nails from time to time.
She finally went to take a bite of her own sandwich, washing the mouthful down with a sip of water. She hadn’t known how hungry she was until now. It seemed that fight had worn her out. She wasn’t tired, though. The whole debacle outside had helped make her feel… lighter somehow.
It was nice. Him being here now. Even if the conversation was lagging. Buffy herself didn’t really mind, and as her guest took another bite of his meal, she thought that he didn’t seem to mind much either.
><
A companionable silence had settled over while after they ate, the small kitchenette grew cool as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, until finally night fell completely. The open window wasn’t shut and the sounds of crickets and other nightlife only added to the atmosphere of tranquility that soon draped over the house.
The air smelt of fading summer and autumn leaves, damp earth and honeysuckle. A candy bowl had been nearly emptied by Spike and Buffy later in the evening as they’d decided it would be good to finish off the left over trick-or-treat goodies Grams had bought for visiting children. The tootsie rolls were taken greedily by Buffy as she swore dibs on any and all things chocolate. While Spike grabbed all the sour and fruity pieces he could get his hands on.
The Brit felt like a grubby toddler fishing through the candy bowl with Buffy in her living room, fighting for certain pieces of candy and threatening to eat all of the Hershey bars if she didn’t cough up the last cherry Jolly Rancher.
The indignant and mock glare she sent his way as she withheld the sweet from him threatened to make Spike laugh, but finally she threw the Jolly Rancher passed his shoulder and the man leapt off the couch to retrieve it. Buffy quickly dived forward to grab hold of all the Hershey bars she could as Spike searched, with a smirk on his face, for the missing candy on the carpet.
Truth be told, he could’ve caught the Jolly Rancher mid air, his vampire status gave him quick reflexes, but it was more fun watching Buffy scramble to get a hold of all her desired chocolate bars before he returned to the couch.
“That was cheating.”
“We already agreed I get the chocolate,” Buffy replied evenly, looking cute as a button sitting Indian style on the sofa. “I gave you back your Cherry one, didn’t I?”
Spike squinted at her, trying hard not to smile. “S’not fair when you throw it, love. An besides, I’m pretty sure there are some Laffy Taffy missing from my pile.” He scooted back into his seat on the opposite side of the candy bowl and examined his small pile of chosen sweets. “Where’d that strawberry one go?”
Buffy regarded him and his pile of candy innocently, frowning like she had no idea what he was talking about. “I didn’t see a strawberry one.”
Spike tilted his head, his tongue going to the inside of his cheek as he scrutinized the blonde in front of him, listening to her slightly accelerated heartbeat. “Oh you didn’t, did you?”
Buffy shook her head. “Nope.”
There was just too much emphasis behind the adorable way she said the word, popping the ‘p’ with her pretty lips as if a bubble were bursting. “Liar.”
Buffy mock gasped. “You’re accusing me of-” She broke off when her eye caught sight of something by the edge of the candy bowl, something she’d thought was hidden safely beneath her own pile of sweets.
Spike followed her gaze.
Their eyes met simultaneously, just as on cue as when they both dived forward to try and grab the last strawberry Laffy Taffy.
Spike got hold of it first, bringing his hand up in triumph as he shook the candy by its wrapper. “Aha! ‘I didn’t see it’ my arse. You’re a thief.”
Buffy glared and pursed her lips, annoyed he’d gotten hold of the treat first but also amused at the entire situation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so silly and carefree, relaxed.
“And you’re a hoarder,” the woman declared. “There’s not near as many Hershey bars in here as there are fruity things, and you refuse to share!”
Spike twisted the Laffy Taffy in his fingers temptingly, flaunting his victory in her face and refusing to feel sympathy for the Chocolate Queen. “A deal’s a deal, love. S’not my fault you claimed everything brown ‘fore I could even get a look at the bowl.”
She harrumphed, looking very much the pouting three year old. Then her head tilted and her eyes glinted. “What if I trade you?”
Spike frowned, seeming to consider the offer. “What are we talkin here?”
She held up a finger. “One large tootsie roll, for the Laffy Taffy.”
Spike scoffed. “Don’t think so, pet.”
Buffy threw her hands up. “Well then what do you want in exchange?”
Spike tapped the wrapped sweet against his chin, seemingly considering his choices very seriously, before finally smirking slightly and offering a deal. “Two Reese’s for the Taffy.”
Buffy gaped. “Two Reese’s for one Laffy Taffy?! Are you insane, Reese’s are at the top of the Halloween Candy Food Chain.”
“And you’ve got the only three. I think you can spare a couple.”
Buffy grumbled something under her breath.
“Take it or leave it, princess.”
She scowled at him before biting her lip. She had an idea brewing and though it was risky, she was willing to take a chance. No one took away her Reese’s peanut butter cups. That was just mean.
“Okay fine.” She acted like she was about to pick up her Reese’s. When Spike held out the Laffy Taffy, waiting for her to offer her half of the deal, she quickly snatched the Taffy away and then bolted off the couch.
“Hey!” Spike blinked at the smirking girl in the doorway. Even with his vampiric abilities, he had NEVER seen a human move that fast before. Her hand had literally blurred as it snatched away the strawberry treat.
“Too slow,” she taunted in a sing-song voice.
The Brit’s gaze darkened and Buffy fought down the little twinge of anxiety as he stared at her.
“You’re gonna regret that.”
Buffy flipped her now dry hair over one shoulder, wiggling the candy she’d taken in one hand at him unashamedly and rather proud of herself. “Here’s a tip, Spike. Never try an take chocolate away from me.”
He stood up, and Buffy started to unwrap the Laffy Taffy. A mischievous and flirty smile appeared on her lips. She knew what she was doing, how she must look and the signals she might be sending out, but Buffy couldn’t make herself to stop.
Spike’s pupils dilated, his eyes zeroing in on her as she bit her lip and grinned at him from across the room. She peeled away more of the pink wrapper and went to take a bite of the candy, and just before she sunk her pearly whites into the treat, he pounced.
Buffy laughed and rushed through the dining room, bursting into the kitchen as she heard Spike approaching not far behind. He wasn’t running, but rather walking quickly. His footsteps hit the floor in warning that he was coming.
Damn why wasn’t the house bigger. She could go outside she supposed but the backyard was only so big and she was barefoot. Buffy looked around her, deciding that the study wouldn’t be a good idea. Although it had two doorways attached to it, Spike would assume she went to the safety of her own bedroom and find her quickly there. If she hid in Grams’ she’d be stuck. There was no more than one doorway to that room.
Then Buffy thought of the attic. If she was quick enough…
Spike’s footsteps got closer.
Buffy opened the door to the upstairs and as quietly as she could, shut it closed. Then she bolted up the steps, not bothering to tread lightly. She was too caught up in the game to think that much about her position and the sounds she might make to lead him on to where she was.
Spike calmly entered the kitchen, though his body was in hunter mode. His eyes were blacker than they were blue, his nose twitched in search of his prey, his blood simmered lowly with the excitement of the chase, his hearing…
His hearing picked up on footsteps above his head, almost at the same moment as when his nose caught her trail and his combined vampire senses told him there was a human up in the attic. As his body told him where he would find Buffy.
He could feel her, it was something quite new to Spike. He wasn’t unaccustomed to knowing where a hiding human was resting, where a heartbeat thrummed among silence and emptiness, but this was different. He FELT Buffy. His hair stood up on the back of his neck as he opened the door to the attic. His boots climbed up the steps her feet had touched and he felt a jolt run through him.
He could almost taste her scent he was so aware of it.
One thing Spike knew for sure, as he calmly walked up the steps even while his body was strung tighter than a violin bow, he’d never gotten this worked up over a piece of candy before.
><
Buffy breathed calmly, the air in the attic dusty and humid despite the cool night. She was behind a mirror with aged glass and chipped paint on its wooden border. She heard Spike take the last step as he set his feet on the attic floor, and she thought he might speak as the silence suddenly seemed to engulf her.
The chase originally caused by friendly teasing had rapidly changed into something else entirely. Buffy’s heart was beating rapidly and a part of her believed he could hear it. What was going to happen when he caught her? She doubted he’d just go for the candy.
And she was right. Spike wanted a taste of something much sweeter. He knew very well what would happen once he found her, once he took those steps towards her hiding spot and rounded the mirror she used as a wall. Once he laid his hands on her, once he kissed her.
Buffy wasn’t so sure. She knew she’d started this whole thing, was the one to put the first spin of flirtation and tease on a game of cat and mouse. She didn’t know what she was going to do now. She didn’t want to possibly ruin the night by allowing her feelings for Spike to get the best of her, to make her do something she’d regret. What if she scared him away? What if they couldn’t have another night like they’d had tonight? Albeit, it had started with a fight, but he’d still stayed even after that. He’d come over and they’d shared a meal, they’d talked a little and she learned some more about him. He spoke about his home and how he was good at carpentry. She’d teased him about his hair. They’d eaten candy like two little kids together and joked with ease. It felt like she was both hanging out with a friend and like she was on a date. While an unknown third sensation whispered about danger and passion, something Buffy couldn’t put her finger on. Something telling her that her time with Spike wasn’t just fun and carefree, but also vibrant and sexual and tempting. It was a heady, perfect combination and Buffy wasn’t sure what would ruin it.
She remembered thinking that this was SO not a date, that his coming to eat with her at her house wasn’t intimate. That he was just supposed to be someone she felt she should trust and could talk to.
Well it sure had turned out to be more, hadn’t it?
Or maybe it hadn’t. Would he kiss her when he found her? Grab her and tickle her until they ended up on the floor with him on top and her on bottom, in that classic movie scene where the guy and the girl were either going to kiss or stare at each other until one of them broke the tension with an awkward backtrack? A part of her wasn’t even positive Spike wanted to kiss her.
She wanted him to. And she hated that she couldn’t summon up enough fear to just jump out from behind the mirror and toss him the Laffy Taffy she still held in her sweaty palms, put an end to this game and diffuse the moment.
She was scared of what might happen, but not scared enough.
Spike trailed almost lazily to the other side of the attic, taking in his surroundings while still keeping his entire focus on Buffy’s heartbeat and his awareness of her position. He looked at some black and white photos hanging on the walls, glanced at a dusty trunk and an old vanity table with crystal bottles lining the surface. He looked a tall coat rack up and down, cleared his throat once just to see if Buffy’s pulse would jump.
It did.
Grinning unashamedly, the man felt very much like he was hunting down a meal. Like he was back in the old days, sniffing out the freshest blood he could get his fangs on. But he had no desire to hurt Buffy, nothing inside of him told him to tear into her throat and drink unless it was the delectable tease of her scent which made Spike want to sample her blood. But sample is all he wanted, no more than a taste. He didn’t want to harm her.
Yet there was an unsettling part of himself. Both the demon and the man seemed to be calling out for something… primal. Something possessive, primitive, protective.
He tried to shove it back but realized the more he tried to ignore it, the more it pushed.
Some part of himself was asking for recognition, something focused on Buffy.
A small noise caught his attention.
Spike twisted his head towards her. The mirror moved just slightly, the glass swinging on its stand for only a moment before all stillness took over once again.
He moved forward, and he knew she was aware because he heard her breathing pick up. He imagined her face flushed, her chest heaving just a little bit beneath that sweater. Christ he wanted to see her. Her breasts lifting up and down against the fabric of a tiny tank top, her small shoulders bare, her skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat from anxiousness.
He moved closer. He imagined her mouth open partway, her lips rosy as she sucked in breaths to try and calm herself when she knew he was approaching. Her hair framing her delicate face, the blonde tousled strands reaching to her shoulders and surrounding a slim throat.
Spike’s whole body responded, and he almost groaned aloud. His form was rigid, his steps measured and his feet felt weighted down with lead. He walked until he was two steps away, the sound of her heartbeat thumping in his ears like a drumbeat. It got louder with every move he made.
Buffy fought for breath, her heart hammering and her teeth biting into the tissue of her bottom lip. She could feel sweat beneath her shirt and suddenly wished she’d worn something lighter. She was too on edge to notice the burn in her lower abdomen, the tingling sensation that she’d yet to have happen to her in… well, ever.
She was preoccupied with her nerves, wondering if she should run again when he finally found her, or if she should stay in place and see what he did. Would he touch her? Grab her arms to pause any thought she might have at bolting. Or would he just jump out? Would he pull her to him? Would he be thinking of this much more innocently than she obviously was? Because if THAT was the case than Buffy was sure she’d have to beat her head against the wall at least-
He seized her arms, pale hands meeting soft wool as he suddenly appeared right in front of her. She hadn’t realized just how tall he was, and though he wasn’t as over towering as many men, given that she was barefoot he looked just about a giant to her. It was so strange, one minute he wasn’t there and the next he was before her, stepping out from the other side of the mirror so quietly and gracefully he might as well have been a ghost.
Blue eyes met her green, his blazed and the black pupils grew enormously as he seemed to focus on her mouth. Then he was kissing her.
It was hard, the first imprint of his lips on hers like a passionate crash that made Buffy slam her eyes shut and arch up. Then slowly, gradually, the movement of his mouth softened and it turned unrushed, tender. He explored her, languorous touches as his lips opened here and there against her own closed ones.
She tasted like heaven. It was the only thing Spike could think of to describe her, the softness, the heat. He’d never had this before. She was exquisite.
Buffy was already standing on her tip toes, her shaky hands moving hesitantly towards his arms. Her fingertips touched him lightly, and he increased pressure on her mouth. His tongue slipped around the seam of her lips, encouraging her to open them. Oh so very slowly she did, the gentle unhurried probing of his tongue feeling wickedly delicious. The cool wetness sent her spiraling until her body was flush against his. Her arms ran up his own as she pulled back for air, his sweet breath hitting against her trembling lips.
Then she dived in again, needing more. A craving started in the pit of her stomach, slowly controlling her whole body as her arms went around his neck and Spike moved his large hands from her shoulders to her ribcage, gently raking his cool palms against the material of her sweater.
Buffy loved the strange coldness he emitted. The man was passionate and it seemed he was both quenching a thirst and feeding a fire inside of her, his cold breath starting to send shivers up her spine, though the temperature had almost nothing to do with it.
She’d never kissed someone like this, where she felt a literal burn beneath her skin until she thought she might burst at the seams. Where she wanted to tear off his shirt and scrape her nails along his chest, have him run his own palms along her belly, soothe the ache that was building there.
Spike wrapped an arm fully around the indent of her waist, hauling her impossibly closer, needing to feel every inch of her. His kisses showed he wanted to consume her whole, though he never moved harsher or faster, but kept it slow. He moved deeply, the tangle of their tongues like silk against water. He inhaled her every breath, felt flames growing inside of him as her delicate touches became surer, as she started to take what she wanted and explore rather than just let him stake claim to her lips.
She was taking all of him, tasting every inch, her tongue dancing along his teeth and swirling with his as his free hand went to the back of her head. His palm ran through her golden hair, and he gripped her so she couldn’t pull away. When she drew back her lips for seconds at a time to breathe, Spike fought for unneeded gulps of air as well, the fire she was creating inside him close to consuming.
Her heat touched his lips again, and Spike idly wondered how he’d ever gone on without her. This sweetness, this heart, this passion that played with his own. The desperation she was showing in sharing this intimacy. He didn’t think he could ever let this go.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey everyone, i hope you're still following this story. Here is chapter 10, i hope you enjoy it! Please leave reviews! :)