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Author's Chapter Notes:
So sorry for taking so long to post this. I'm hoping there is still some interest?
Chapter Eight


His recent exertions had apparently taken everything out of him. Even with Buffy lying slack on top of his body he should have been able to wiggle his toes. But there was nothing. Apparently plucking up the gumption to go walkabout and then engaging in enthusiastic if not energetic sex just was not recommended for those vamps recovering from severed spinal cords.

But he was comfy, or as comfy as a self-respecting vamp with a Slayer cosying into his chest and under his chin could be. He got a whiff of her sweet hair, the tang of fruit wafting like some pheromone that caught him in her spell forever.

She wriggled as she surfaced from sleep, her heartbeat becoming irregular as she acclimatised herself. She didn’t move. Instead he felt her warm lips brush against his chest and her hand searching for his at his side, linking their fingers together. He’d expected outraged desertion, her jumping angrily to her feet before she attempted to stake him.

He couldn’t do anything but hold his body still, staring at the ceiling while he hoped that she felt everything as he had. Hoped that she wouldn’t leave him as he began to swell inside her. It was the sweetest torture, this wait. Not knowing what would happen. What he hoped would happen. In what direction she would accept for them to go in.

“Mmmmm,” she whispered against his skin. Skin that had taken on her warmth as she lay sleeping. Skin that would never thrive with anything but her touch. He knew it for a certainty, knew he wasn’t the type of vamp who could easily experience this kind of emotion with more than one woman at a time.

He’d rocked up to Sunnydale, plowing down the ‘welcome’ sign in an act of childish rebellion, and wondered what it was he’d really come for. Sure, on the surface it was to awaken his dark beauty to her health, release her back to full potential. But so much had gotten in the way; so much had changed his focus.

And now he had her in his arms.

“Spike?” Buffy lifted her head, her eyes shy and veiled as she sat up. Her hands fluttered upward to cover her breasts, and she looked away from him in embarrassment. And yet she still sat astride him, his cock buried deep inside and thickening more every second she sat there and looked beautiful.

“Ssh,” he hushed her, sitting up with a determined push of his hands into the cushions. “Buffy, don’t hide, sweetheart. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” The change in angle pressed his length to a new spot and she moaned deep in her throat, her eyes almost drifting closed. And then he peeled her hands from her breasts so he could look his fill. “So bloody beautiful, love.”

And she met the risk, entwined her arms around his neck and kissed him goodmorning. Or goodlunch, or something.

“Don’t hurry out on this, yeah? It meant somethin’ and I want to see where it could go. I want us to feel it again and again.”

She answered with a hesitant nod, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip in nervousness.

“’M feelin’ a bit peckish, pet.”

“Oh,” she said in surprise before immediately offering her throat to him. She lifted the length of her hair away from her flesh, leaving her skin pale and creamy and vibrating with her pulse. He swallowed hard. “Not what I meant, sweetling.”

Her look of confusion spoke volumes. He kissed her softly while nudging her off his cock with a miserable moan, and moved her up to his abdomen.

“Spike? What are you…oh…”

He positioned her on his chest and pushed her back to rest against knees that were wonderfully cooperative for the moment, leaving her open to him like a succulent flower as he stretched out with his eager tongue and lapped at her silky moist pussy lips. She tasted like pure manna from the Gods, something he’d thought lost to him forever as a walker of the night. Her nervousness crumbled around her into erotic bliss and she quickly used her hands to hold his face against her, her eyes rolling back in her head at how much the burning itch spread through her with the questing depths of his tongue. He buried it inside her, exploring between the walls and allowing the roughness on the surface to scratch in blissful irritation until she couldn’t stay still. And then he stroked her most sensitive nub, rolling it and flicking it with the edge of his tongue and she was panting, moaning as she fixed on the white head consuming her between her thighs. As he bobbed a little up and down she pushed herself a little more forward, climbing some haphazard incline as a flush stole over her body and left it tingling and hot. Her writhing increased as the bolts of pleasure surged and receded with the depth and desire of his tongue until finally she couldn’t hold it anymore. Her own fingers reached up to pinch her nipples hard, pulling them with excruciating pleasure as he released her energy with the rapid but rhythmic rubbing of his tongue.

It was too much, sensation bounding through her until all she could see was blinding light—something she at first had mistaken for the blurring outline of his head. But it was a plain she had never visited, a place that told her of higher things totally unexpected.

And then she heard whispers, a hand wiping her face as she sobbed her relief and scooted far enough down his body to bury her face in the crook of his neck. Held him tight against her before she had to face the likelihood of losing this too, despite the promise of his kiss and that of the Powers that guided her life.

Her ability to be coherent escaped somewhere unknown, showing her nothing but images of how he’d loved her through the day until now. Even so young and relatively naïve to the ways of passion, she felt no sense of modesty or regret now. Nothing had ever felt so inevitable as being in this vampire’s arms, and nothing would make her surrender the hope she felt from being there. And so she surrendered to the thinking rather than the expressing, knowing more than anyone that Buffy and words were not the mixiest of things in such a situation.

His hands felt warm and so right as he rubbed her gently, sharing her body heat and recycling it back to her. And she smiled, quite willing as she had more than enough warmth to give. Glad that her heart was allowing her to share when she had thought it irreparably broken.

She was interrupted from her hazy study of his neck—the skin feeling so silky and right against her possessive lips—when she came across the scar of a bite and knew instinctively that it was the mark of his sire, Drusilla. Buffy’s eyes widened as a bolt of fear ran through her and she realised anew where she was, who she was with and what it would mean. This vampire she had given herself so wholly to had no loyalty to her, had no feeling for her. He was evil, prevented from the hunt and kill through her own directed attempt to kill. He was crippled and lying naked on her mother’s couch, his ready fangs so very close to her neck. And then it came to her that he had already been buried deep inside her—in numerous and equally satisfying ways—and the sudden burst of fear erupted into a nervous giggle.

Spike’s body tensed beneath her, his hands holding her in a steady brace against his body.

“Baby, please don’t be scared.” His voice was filled with that soft worry that Buffy had first flinched at during that time he had panicked as she held a stake to his lover’s chest. And yet, now she was his lover. She was the woman he held in his arms. But for how long? Would he discard her once his legs gained strength and he could move away from her? Leave her behind with a second crushed heart, and one she didn’t think would be so easily distracted? Images of a naked Drusilla and Angelus as they fucked each other over the top of Spike’s useless legs flooded her in misery, bringing the pain she had pushed away at the evil and cruel nature of her first lover. But now her heart heard Spike, felt his hurt from his sire’s betrayal and his uncertainty about Buffy’s own loyalty.

And he’d called her baby. It brought an inner warmth to her body and she expressed it with a smile into his neck and a lick of the hated marks. He groaned deeply, a very sexy growl rumbling underneath her and making her vibrate against his body. God, that was so hot and so she did it again. Slayer teeth latching onto the mark that made him who he was, the mark that brought him through the world and the ages until he tangled limbs with this Slayer.

And this time his feral nature broke out, growling for possession at her ear even as his cock pushed thick and strong against the centre of her ass cheeks. Intense energy surged through her pussy again and she wondered if he’d turned her into a nympho just by getting her naked. All sparked from a simple request to show herself to him in a lewd moment of lust. And she’d fallen, almost like she had been lured with her mind shutdown and floundering. Except she was now back with herself, unbearably aware that she wanted him again, craved his lips and his hands and his penis as all of him stroked her into a blazing fury of passion.

She nibbled at his chin, working her way to his lips and losing herself in the taste of master vampire, not even tasting the blood that dripped from her cut lips as he seduced her totally.

“Not scared,” she told him as she wriggled backwards, crying in agonised pleasure when she dropped down onto him again, the hard surface of his proportions gliding into her with the smooth slickness of her desire for him.

“Oh pet,” he moaned and moaned again as she whispered ‘Buffy’ against his lips, feeling overcome with this new feeling and uttering unintelligible words of devotion as her body rode him slowly. He could call her Buffy. In his heart she was the girl of power, the one who was strong enough to step back away from her destiny and seek truth in that surrounding her. She saw him and took a risk with him like no other. Dru had seen him in the beginning, but even now he wondered if she was guided by some strange power that she might have better ignored. She’d seen something, brought him into a world that he’d never fit into though he forced his awkward dimensions into every shaped hole possible, never finding one that fit him like a glove—until now.

And evil fled his heart for that moment; fled his memory for ones that were more pure, more profound than all those filled with bloodshed and death. He could sort it all out some other time; berate himself for being a fucking wanker and prissyboy about it much later. Later when the scent of the Slayer wasn’t drugging his mind with words of beauty, ones of description that were more sensation than English. He wanted to write on her skin, etch effulgent in the softened flesh of her breasts while he licked her nipples hard.

Wanted to write his names on her thighs, mark her forever as his so that no other filthy bastard could get anywhere near her, and yet his fangs were still there, still near her neck as she collapsed against his chest, her pelvis moving in hypnotic circles around his cock. She was exhausted with feeling, he could sense it. Resembled the same and yet all he did was lie back. Feel the grasping pain in his balls and knew it was the time, quickly grabbing a fistful of her hair as he dragged her neck before his mouth, sinking his teeth deep into her throat and pumping her wildly with another bruising grip at her thigh. She moaned and bucked, her back arching off him as far as his fangs allowed as she reached back and squeezed his balls and shuddered against his rigid flesh.

His heart was involved in the showdown, momentarily pumping frantically as his seed found its place inside her down deep and he could feel the magic begin its woven net around her, binding her to him and making her unreachable for anyone else. No one could touch her now but him. She could never return to the Poof with the fucking ridiculous poofy hair, and in return Spike was thoroughly banished from the snatch of his previous love. And he didn’t want it any other way.

Buffy felt the swell of change around her, felt the expansion of her heart and the tingle of something new as it twisted and then settled within her. She didn’t understand, didn’t ask or yell for explanations, just snuggled into the chest she wanted to be hers forever. Nothing could possibly be like this. That plain of white had told her, promised her that this wasn’t to be her punishment. Had smiled when they forgave her the release of a monster by commending her progress in changing another back to something good.

Spike.

How could this be anything but Love with a capital L?





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