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Ch. 7: Time to Put the Toys Away

Buffy stretched langorously, slowly letting the sleep fall from her body and her eyes. She had slept so soundly, her nighttime pleasure exhausting her and yet satisfying her. She threw off her covers and looked at the clock.

"Shit! Oh my god," Buffy moaned as she calculated how little time she had to get dressed and get to school on time. Throwing on her velour hoodie and sweatpants, she ran into the bathroom, washed and brushed, and ran out the door.

***

"Buffy, we were worried. Oversleep?" Buffy read the note written in Willow's neat cursive. In an attempt to calm herself, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, still a bit out of breath from running all the way to school and into the classroom as the bell rang. Taking out her notebook and textbook to look like she was paying attention, Buffy partially covered the note and began writing a response.

"Yeah, totally overslept. Anya's gift kinda exhausted me. :o So, no note for you…I’ll tell you all about Angel and the other stuff at lunch?" Buffy wrote quickly, making sure her teacher didn't catch her. She folded up the note and covertly passed it over to Willow, who was sitting slightly in front and to the left of her.

Willow read the note quickly and turned to give her a sympathetic smile, followed by a wink. Then they both began to take notes, letting the normal school routine overtake them.

***

"So, was the Physics test as bad for you guys as it was for me?" Xander said as he plopped into his regular seat in between Anya and Spike.

"Xander, hush. We’re trying to hear about Buffy’s date with Angel, and she’s not speaking very loudly," Anya said, irritated. She gave him a dirty look and then leaned back into the conversation with Buffy and Willow.

Xander looked over at Spike and Oz, received dual eyebrow quirks, and then began eating his food. "Girls. Never understand them, can't live without ‘em."

Spike snorted and then went back to surreptitiously eavesdropping on the girls' conversation.

"So, there were no smoochies?" Willow said, eager to hear all of Buffy's adventures.

"Well, he tried, but I chickened out. He got my cheek, and I think he was really surprised when I turned my head. I just wasn't, well, there yet." Buffy blushed and began to play with the hem of her shirt.

"Oh, so he didn't really turn you on much?" Anya said bluntly. "No good vibrations?"

"Anya! I mean, maybe next time or something. But I just felt like letting him kiss me so soon would've been, uh, too soon," Buffy protested, trying to convince herself.

"Buffy, if you had wanted him, if he had turned you on, if you had been attracted to him, you would've let him kiss you. Hell, you would've let him do a lot more, if your choice in underwear says anything about all those repressed desires you have," Anya declared, as if her words finished up the conversation.

Spike smirked at Anya's comment but quickly hid it by popping a fry in his mouth. He continued to feign boredom and joined in on Xander's paper football game with Oz.

"Anya, will you keep your voice down? Not everyone is as horny as you are, right Willow?" Buffy said desperately.

"Actually, when Oz and I first went out, I couldn't wait to kiss him. I think Anya has a point," Willow said sincerely. "But maybe you're just being cautious?"

"Exactly. I've never had a boyfriend, and I don't want things to go kablooey on my first try." With that, Buffy got up to put her tray away.

"She's not interested. She's trying too hard. If it had been you know who, she would've been all over his body," Anya muttered, sighing loudly.

"Well, maybe it's for the better. Angel might turn out to be salty goodness eventually," Willow said, ever hopeful. "Anyway, we'd better go after her, see what she's decided to make of all this."

The girls said their goodbyes and walked after Buffy.

"So, what do you guys think of Buffy's new man?" Xander said, pausing their paper pastime.

"He seems sketchy," Oz said in his characteristically brief manner.

"Yeah, gotta agree with little man. He's a little too smooth and too tall and too stupid-looking. Can't trust those college boys around our girls," Spike said, trying to keep his voice even.

"I guess we shall see. Now seriously. Did you guys think the test was hard?" Xander said as he picked up his backpack.

"Nope."

"Nah. Sorry, Xan."

"Not at all?" he asked sadly as he followed his two friends out of the cafeteria.

***

"Buffy, wait! You didn't tell me what you thought of my gift! What happened to that note I was –"

Buffy quickly handed Anya a tightly folded note. "Okay? No more asking. I've gotta get to class, okay?"

Anya opened up the note excitedly and read, "You were right—lots of pleasure. Over too quickly. Will experiment more later. Stop asking!!!" She grinned widely and yelled down the hall, "Didn't I tell you it gave great pleasure?!? Tell me about your next experiments!" Anya giggled as she saw Buffy's frantic response and ran to her last class.

***

"Damn, that was a long day," Buffy said to herself as she plopped onto her bed after what seemed like an endless barrage of homework assignments and boring lectures. She knew she should be getting ready for the study group by cleaning up a little or at least preparing for her meeting with Spike about the book project, but she was too sleepy. She wanted to take a nap, take a bath, eat dinner, and then deal with all those things. She peeled off her clothes and crawled into bed in her panties. "I deserve this," she mumbled, letting her inexplicable fatigue overtake her.

She awoke two hours later to the sounds of her mom in the kitchen. Deciding she still had time for a bath, she gathered her favorite scented candles and bubble bath and headed towards the tub.

As she waited for the water to fill the tub, Buffy turned on a cd and swayed to the music while stripping. When the bath was finally ready, she slowly sank into the bubbles and lost herself.

***

"Hi, Spike. Here for the study session?" Joyce said pleasantly after answering the door.

"Yes, ma'am. Am I the first one here?" Spike asked politely as he entered the house.

"It looks like it. Did you want something to munch on or something to drink?" Joyce called over her shoulder while walking towards the kitchen. "I was putting leftovers away since Buffy slept through dinner. I hope she's not too sick. Buffy?" she called out as she piled food into a Tupperware. Not paying attention, she accidentally pushed the glass salad bowl off the counter, causing a loud crash and a dangerous mess. "Oh, no," Joyce cried out as she surveyed the floor.

"Are you okay? Can I help you clean this up?" Spike said as he moved towards the broken shards of glass.

"No, no, stay over there. I don't want you to get cut. Actually, if you could just go upstairs and check on Buffy, I'd really appreciate it. I can take care of this." She began carefully picking up larger pieces and placing them in the trashcan.

"Are you sure?" Spike asked again, not wanting to leave Joyce to clean the entire mess.

"Completely. Go on and tell her you're here," Joyce said, reassuring him.

"Okay," he said, turning to head up the stairs.

"Buffy?" he called out, while softly knocking on the door. "Are you sleeping? Your mom asked me to check on you. I'm not really that early," Spike said. Not hearing anything, he slowly turned the knob. As he opened the door, he knocked once again, a little louder. "Are you in here?" He opened the door fully, revealing a rumpled bed and a few clothes strewn on a chair. He continued into the room, not knowing where else to look. The last time he had come into the room, he had been distracted by Buffy’s undulating body. Now that there was little distraction, he took his time in surveying the room, trying to get a deeper glance into Buffy. Overall the room was neat, the bed made, the books on their proper shelves. The walls had a few posters and art prints on the wall--not the usual Monet prints but a movie poster of Amelie, American Beauty, and a few others, in addition to random smatterings of handwritten notes on the wall by her bed. He moved in closer to read them and found various quotations from books, including the opening line from their project book, Love in the Time of Cholera. "I love that quote," he muttered to himself as he quickly saw other lines from various novels. He smiled as he read one from Erica Jong's Fear of Flying when he bumped into her nightstand, accidentally knocking something to the ground.

He bent down to pick up the object and suddenly it began vibrating. He dropped it, startled by its movement. He bent down to look at it closely and then began smirking when he realized what it was. "Must have hit its switch when I picked it up," he thought to himself. "Interesting." He grinned once again, thinking of Buffy pleasuring herself, and slowly stood up, precisely as Buffy turned to close her door.

She moved in his direction while toweling her hair, humming to herself, when she suddenly saw Spike. She was rendered speechless, completely unsure of what to do.

Spike was quiet as well, but more in response to her shapely legs shown off by the short robe she was wearing. She smelled fresh, her skin still vibrant from her bath. He was so overwhelmed by the sight and scent of her that he forgot what he was holding.

When Buffy could finally grasp the situation, she began to babble incoherently. "What are you doing in here? Why are you here so early? And in my room? Do you normally go into people's rooms when no one's around?" As she approached Spike, she finally saw what was in Spike's hand. Her eyes bulged, and she threw her towel onto a chair to free her hands for rescue.

"What the hell are you doing?" She lunged for the toy in his hand, hoping he hadn't realized what it was.

Spike finally awoke from his stupor and snapped his hand up into the air, out of her grasp. This was just too juicy of an opportunity for teasing, and he wasn't about to give in. "Am I not pleasing you?" he asked coyly.

"You asshole! Give me that! Who told you to come up here anyway?" Buffy yelled, jumping up and desperately trying to get back her possession.

"Actually, your mom told me to come get you. She wanted you to come down for dinner. To eat. If you're hungry. You can just go down." Spike's voice was low and his subtle emphasis on certain words only infuriated her more. She took to punching him as hard as she could, which was pretty hard. "Ow, luv. You've got a mean punch," he moaned, trying to move away from her onslaught of fists.

"I'm not going to stop until you give it back," she said, continuing her rage. Her anger was eclipsing her embarrassment at the moment; she felt indignation at having her room invaded and was doing all she could to take back some control.

Finally Spike caught one of her fists with her free hand. "You're gonna have to stop that," he said, starting to feel the power of her small muscles.

"I've still got one fist. You can't hold me down without giving it up," she said, putting her whole body behind her one fist.

Swiftly Spike turned her around and had her against the wall, effectively trapping her other hand and making her incapable of continuing her batter. "Come again?" he asked with a rakish grin.

"Fuck off," she spat out, struggling to get out. "You have no business going through my stuff."

"Honestly, I was reading your quotes. It was purely innocent. But then I bumped your night stand and this fell. Didn't you learn to put your toys away?" Spike purred, pushing his body again in response to her attempts to escape. He could feel her starting to give in and grew more aware of her petite body pressing against his, her robe starting to come undone in their brief tussle. He glanced down at her neck with its jumpy pulse, her breasts glistening with a mixture of bath drops and sweat, her face flush with embarrassment, exertion, arousal? The possibility called to him, and he felt his cock jump in response.

She felt the change in him, in his body and his face. She looked into his clear blue eyes and tried to figure out what had just happened, how she had gotten up against the wall with his body pushed against hers, how she was half-naked with Spike holding her vibrator. All these thoughts crowded in her mind while her pussy only thought of one thing. If he wanted to, if for some crazy reason he tried, she wouldn't turn away; Spike wouldn't get her cheek. Her heart beat accelerated at the thought, and she ached to taste him. She looked at his lips, lips she had so often seen in a mocking sneer or contemptuous grin, lips that she had dreamt about, lips that seemed to be coming closer and closer…

The phone rang, its cacophonous buzz corresponding to the sirens that were blaring in her mind. They both stopped, the air thick with hesitation and desire, each battling for dominance.

"Buffy? It's for you. It's Angel," Joyce called.

Buffy was still frozen, not wanting to move, not wanting to destroy the moment she knew had already passed.

Another ring pierced the air. Spike unwillingly moved to answer his cell phone.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Faith." Spike glanced at Buffy one more time as she moved to begin her own conversation. "No, I'm not doing anything."

Buffy tried not to sigh, her heart quickly constricting at what seemed to be a dismissal of their moment. She steeled herself and tried to brighten her voice. "Hi, Angel. What's up?"

Their voices rose and fell over the other, each attempting to momentarily bury the sensations that had so quickly surfaced.

Spike, finishing first, waited a little while Buffy animatedly chatted about upcoming plans with Angel. He walked over to the nightstand, put back the toy, and, seeing that Buffy wasn't even looking at him, left the room.

Buffy quickly wrapped up the chat, hung up the phone, and sat blankly. There was too much to think about, too much warmth still pressed up against her body, too many lost possibilities thumping her spirit. The hands squeezing her heart and the scent of bitter almonds quickly defeated her, and she curled into a ball on her bed, postponing her walk downstairs for as long as possible.





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