Spike stopped rummaging through the trunk of clothes to look over at Buffy. Her face was flushed with anger and her tiny fists clenched and ready to strike. “Luv, much as I’d like to sit here and watch you eviscerate the widow Monroe with the shear power of your vocabulary, we have to put a rush on.”
She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “At least we know for sure now that she’s got our coin. Why else would she run? She knew we were on to her, and the little bitch snuck off in the middle of the night. And you!” Buffy spun around to face him, hands on her hips. “You can tell me any time now how right I was and how wrong you were.”
Spike, still crouched over the trunk, looked up at her, an eyebrow cocked. “Right about what, pet?”
“That she’s a slut,” Buffy huffed, jutting her hip and glaring at him. “Slutty McSlutterton.”
Despite the gravity of their situation, Spike couldn’t help but chuckle. “Slutty McSluttington?”
“No, Slutty McSlutterton. It’s the 'R' that makes it art, bonehead.”
They stared at each other for a moment and then both burst out laughing. Buffy, wiping tears from her eyes, sank down next to him on the floor. “Please tell me you have a plan and that we aren’t completely and totally screwed.” She glanced at the clothes he’d strewn about the floor while he was digging through the trunk. “Either that or you’re taking your revenge out on my wardrobe.”
Spike stood and pulled Buffy to her feet along with him, his face serious again. “I follow the bitch, catch her, and torture her until she tells me where the fucking coin is.”
“Now that’s a plan I can get behind.” Buffy nodded. “But how? She took off last night, no? How do we catch up with her?”
Spike moved to the other side of the wagon, picking up a pair of battered leather saddle bags. “Simple, I go out on horseback after her.”
“Wait,” Buffy said, tilting her head and watching as he began to throw some items from a keg on the wagon’s floor into the bag’s pouches. “What’s this 'I' crap, Kemo Sabe?”
“Because that’s what we have, Buffy. A horse. One. Singular. Shay came by when I was hitching up the team. Told me he could spare me a saddle horse, if I wanted to make chase after Katie.”
“You aren’t chasing anything without me,” Buffy said, her face set in that stubborn way he knew all too well.
He turned his back on her, moving to another keg and pulling out some dried fruit and hard tack. “Buffy, there’s no way I’m allowing—“
“Wait. Wait. WAIT.” Buffy threw up her hands When he didn’t turn, she walked over and swung him around to face her. I did not hear you say that you wouldn’t allow me to go with you. Please tell me I didn’t hear that!" Her index finger poked him sharply in the sternum, her chin jutting defiantly. “Because if I did hear you say that, I would so have to open a can of whoop ass on you.”
Spike donned his own stubborn look. He had to make her see how dangerous this was going to be—leaving the safety of the wagon train and heading into unfamiliar territory. He had to make her see reason, make her understand that he couldn’t keep her safe here, much less out on the trail. And if anything happened to her . . . well, he didn’t even want to think about that. “Buffy—“
“Don’t 'Buffy' me. I’m going with you. We’re in this together, Spike; you said that yourself. This is our destiny we’re chasing all over the prairie. Our destiny. The only way this is going to work is if we’re together.”
He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Damn, annoying, frustrating, hard-headed woman. “Fine. Have it your way. Like you always do.” She smiled at him then and a little piece of his heart broke—forever love’s bitch. Shaking his head, he grumbled, “I hate it when my own words come back to bite me in the arse.”
Buffy’s smile widened. “Well, that’ll teach you. I’ve always said you talk too much.” She leaned in then and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the clothes trunk. “Now, what does one wear for a search party?”
The sun was sitting low in the sky by the time Spike reined the bay gelding in. He’d liked to have ridden into the night, but the horse was tired. Carrying two people through the rocky terrain had taken it out of the animal. His bay coat was dark with sweat, lather foaming under the reins and saddle blanket. The last few miles Spike had barely been able to urge him into a trot and he didn’t want to risk running the animal lame and being stranded in the middle of nowhere.
But it had been a good day and they’d managed to put quite a few miles between them and the wagon train. More importantly they’d probably gained some time on Katie, as Spike had pushed hard and taken few breaks. Saddle sore and stiff, he figured they’d both sleep well tonight.
Although sleeping wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the evening. It was, in point of fact, not even close.
The object of this fantasy tightened her grip on his waist, and Buffy squirmed against him as she tried to find a comfortable position behind him in the saddle. “We’re stopping here?” Spike heard the relief in her voice and smirked.
The sooner he got them off this horse, the sooner they could take up where they left off this morning. Mission be damned, if he didn’t fuck this woman soon he was going to explode, figuratively and literally. Those thoughts and the intimate plans to that end had kept his mind occupied for much of their ride. Well, that and Buffy pressed up tightly against him, her breasts flattened against his back, the softness of her thighs nestled against his. At this point, he was so hard he was seriously contemplating humping the horn of the saddle.
“Yeah, think so.” He tried to keep the lust from his voice as he scanned the area, noting the thick grove of pine and fir trees that lined the ragged edge of a small lake. Plenty of cover and fresh water to boot. “It’s a good place to set camp for the night.”
He swung a leg up over the horn of the saddle and jumped to the ground, turning to help Buffy dismount. As he caught her under the arms and drew her from the horse, she moved against him, and it was if time slowed to a crawl—her body sliding against his until just the tips of her toes were on the ground. He held her there, caught against him, her hands clutching his biceps, until the horse, impatient to make his way to the water, shifted and broke the moment.
“I need to water him and let him feed.” He settled Buffy on her feet, but did not let go; moving his hands to rest lightly on her waist.
“I could use with a little water and feeding too.” The smile she gave him was hesitant as she stepped out of his arms and turned to pet the geldings neck.
Spike cocked his head, trying to catch her eyes, assess her mood, but Buffy’s attention seemed focused on the horse. They’d been smack dab on top of each other nearly every minute since they left the wagon train that morning. She probably just needed some space. And perched behind him on the saddle, no doubt she was aching in places she'd rather not think about. No doubt her sudden aloofness didn’t have to mean anything more than being tired. And yet. . .
Spike moved to grab the horse’s bridle, figuring it was best to give Buffy some room; a bit of time to herself to stretch and relax. He could wait. “Let me get this tack off and get him taken care of. I can set up camp, get us a bit of dinner. Why don’t you stretch your muscles a bit?” He nodded toward the lake. “Wash up, you’ll feel better getting your legs under you and taking some of the trail dust off.”
Buffy gave the horse a last pat, turning to Spike. “Thanks; sounds like a good idea.”
Spike watched as Buffy walked towards the lake. She’d donned an old pair of his jeans for the ride, knowing her skirts would be both a bother and a danger. They were belted tightly at the waist and rolled up at the cuffs, being a bit too large for her. Still the sway of her hips entranced him; the jeans cupped her ass nicely and the white shirt she’d also borrowed from him, tucked into the waistband, accented her curves nicely.
Spike drew his lower lip between his teeth, watching as Buffy moved into the trees and beyond his sight. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but there was definitely something on her mind. But he had time to work that out --all evening, in fact. It was just the two of them, now, and Spike had something on his mind, too.
He glanced about, noticing the shadows of the trees already moving their way across the hillside. It would be dark soon, the moon rising in the clear cloudless sky. Nearly a full moon, if his recollection was correct. A heavy moon, a bright star-filled sky, the ideal setting for a seduction. He smiled then and threw his head back to look at the perfect blue sky.
The fire was crackling, the meager dinner of hard tack and biscuits were waiting, and so was Spike. The sun had set, the moon had risen, and Buffy was nowhere to be seen.
Part of him was worried. Maybe she’d wandered off, gotten lost, been eaten by a mountain lion. But just because she didn’t have her slayer strength any longer, didn’t make her foolish. She knew how to take care of herself.
Part of him was angry. Leave it to the slayer to get him interested then leave him high and dry with a nothing but beef jerky and sway back old nag for company.
Another part of him, however, situated to the south of his belt-line, was getting impatient. Sure this whole thing with Slayer was new; they’d only been thrown together in this situation for a few weeks. But in some ways, it felt like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. This girl was meant to be his . . . they might be chasing some damn coin that was foretold to be their destiny, but Spike knew—in the pit of his stomach, in the bottom of his heart—their destiny was tonight. And now, she was getting cold feet?
The part of him that was angry made friends with the part that was impatient, and they decided they weren’t waiting. One. More. Minute.
Tossing the aside the stick he’d been using to stoke the fire, Spike took off toward the lake following the same path he’d seen Buffy take. The woods got thicker closer to the shoreline and as he pushed through the last of the pine branches, he saw her.
She was in the lake, facing away from her, the moonlight reflecting off the bare skin of her shoulders and casting a shadow down the slender length of her back. For a few minutes he couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes from her. Hell, he was having trouble keeping his legs under him.
His eyes flickered for a moment to a pile of clothes that lay along the water's edge. She’d decided to take a bath; the cool, fresh water of the lake was simply too inviting to pass up. Silently Spike moved toward the shore, his hands making quick work of the buttons of his shirt, flinging the garment behind him without a thought. His jeans came next, and he unbuttoned them and let them drop, kicking them aside just as his toes hit the cold lake water.
With the water lapping at his knees, Spike stopped, watching as Buffy stirred the water with her fingertips, the water rippling low on her hips, her skin silver in the moonlight. He took a deep breath, reaching down to stroke himself, still shocked by warmth of his own flesh. His hand stilled as Buffy threw her arms out, as if welcoming the moon, a goddess embracing the night. Spike didn’t need anymore stimulation than watching her.
He continued to watch as she bent at the waist, knees dipping slightly, sweeping water up with both hands onto her shoulders and back. The movement exposed the delicate lips of her pussy—glistening, inviting. Spike must have made some noise, given himself away somehow, because Buffy straightened and whirled about, her hands instinctively coming up to cover her breasts. She was beautiful, his slayer, more so than he had ever imagined. Slowly he advanced on her, his fingers still wrapped tight about his cock.
“Look like some sprite, luv. A water nymph.” He continued to advance on her, even as she took a step back.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, and Spike could hear the catch in her voice—see her lower lip tremble.
“Come to see about you. Was worried some beastie had gotten you.” He smiled.
“I-I’m bathing.” Buffy stammered and took another step back from him.
Spike nodded, his eyebrows rising slightly. “Can see that. But I think it’s time you came out of the water, luv. Cold out here. Let me take you back the fire. Get you warm.”
He watched the muscles of her throat as she swallowed, her hands flitting from her breasts to her mons, unable to decide which to cover. He was close enough to touch her now, reach out a finger, and run it along her wet, slick skin. But before he could move, she skittered back a few more steps into deeper water. She was waist deep now and her hands came up to cross over her breasts, hiding the hardness of her nipples, but little else.
He tilted his head, then drew his lower lip slowly through his teeth. “You turnin’ shy on me, Pet?” His eyes raked over her body. “Weren’t shy this mornin'. All warm and rosy—"
Buffy sunk deeper into the water. “I-I’ve been thinking . . . “
Spike chuckled. “That’s never a good idea, luv.”
She swallowed again and Spike could see she was shaking. “I just . . . I’m just not sure—"
Spike took two steps towards her, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her up close against him. “You’re not sure about what, Buffy? That I want you? I can assure you, most definitely, that I do.” His cock was caught between them, and he brought a hand down to her buttocks, grinding against her.
“No. No, it’s me—" She placed her hands onto his chest, looking into his eyes.
“Not sure you want me?” His fingers moved down between her thighs, seeking out her clit.
She moaned as his fingers worked against her, her hands clutching his biceps. She closed her eyes, her head falling to his chest. “I do. I just don’t know how—”
He pulled her tight against him, tilting her chin up, kissing her and stopping the words of uncertainty. He knew she was scared. This was uncharted territory they were heading into. A vampire and a slayer . . . even here, even with all the changes they’d gone through—mortal enemies, turned reluctant allies, and now lovers. Lovers in a way that neither of them had ever been before. Human, both of them, with all the frailties that went with along with that condition.
He knew she wanted this, just as much as he did—she needed it too, just like him. But he could guess what lay behind her hesitation. She’d been with all of three men, near as he could tell, and all of them as a Slayer. Now here she was, just a woman, and out of her own time to boot. He was in the same boat.
He’d never been with a woman as a human. He’d been a virgin when he was turned. Only timed he’d ever fucked a human was just before or while he drained them. Not exactly experience he could fall back on now.
The kiss deepened and she relaxed in his arms, her lips moving against his. He nibbled her lower lip, then moved across the soft skin of her cheek to nuzzle her ear. “We can take this slow, luv,” he whispered. “Slow as you like. Don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”
He pulled back to look into her eyes, his hand brushing the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Not sure what this is, Buffy. But I know it’s real for me. Know I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, living or dead.”
Her eyes grew large, luminous, and she smiled softly before pulling him down for another kiss. “I want you too. And I don’t care why.”
Spike smiled, leaning down to swing her up into his arms. “Then no more pussyfooting about then?”
She blinked, her brows drawing together. “What pussyfooting? There hasn’t been any pussyfooting”
His gaze fall from her pout to find that rivulets of water were making very interesting paths down curve of her collarbone and onto her breasts.
“There is definitely no–”
His lips silenced her, his fingers digging into the slick skin of her shoulders and knees. His mouth moved aggressively, his lips parting hers, his tongue working against hers. He pulled back when his lungs demanded air, his chest heaving as he stared down into her heavy-lidded eyes.
“Pussy—”she mumbled, her eyes unable to focus.
With a growl, his lips again possessed hers again. Her answering groan, low and deep, rising from her chest and flowing into his mouth, slowed his actions. His lips softened, moving almost reverently against her, nibbling and sucking her lower lip, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. Slowly, tenderly, he worked his way across the soft down of her check, at last nuzzling his nose into the sweet spot just below her ear.
“Footing—” Buffy mumbled drunkenly as his lips nibbled at the column of her throat, his teeth catching her earlobe.
Spike carried her out of the lake, past the clothing piled by the shore, and into the woods. It was dark and chilly, and he cradled her to his chest, lengthening his strides to get them back to camp as quickly as he could. Her teeth were chattering by the time he lowered her to the ground near the campfire.
He unfastened the bed roll from the saddle and wrapped the scratchy blanket around Buffy’s shoulders. She was still shivering, but when she looked up into his face, she smiled, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into his arms.
She reached up, running a finger over his lower lip. “You’re cold too.”
He rubbed his hands briskly over her back and shoulders through the blanket. “Yeah, well—”
“Let me warm you up,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.
He could feel his heart racing, the pulse throbbing in his neck, as she spread the blanket on the ground near the fire and lowered herself down onto it. Then she held out her arms, reaching for him.
“Buffy,” he sighed, settling himself next to her.
The fire light lit the planes of her face, glimmering off her long hair. Her eyes reflected the flames, and he felt a heat in himself rising from his groin and swirling into his stomach. He reached out, caressing her cheek, his finger then running down her neck, feeling her pulse pounding in time with his own.
She looked down, watching his long fingers feathering across her breasts. His thumbs slowly circled her nipples, and they hardened—tightening against his touch. He slowly pushed her back onto the blanket, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at her, his hand still on her breast, stroking and teasing her nipple.
She took a deep, shaky breath and his gaze captured hers. “We’ll take it slow, nice and gentle, it’ll be oka—”
“No.” The word shocked him, and his hand fell from her. “No, I didn’t mean . . . Please. I want . . I need . . . I just want you to be you. I just want to be me.” The last words were spoken so softly Spike barely heard her. She turned her head from him, looking into the flames. “I haven’t been able to be myself . . . to be with someone and be me.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “I can’t explain this; it’s so hard.” Looking back at him, her chin quivered.
Spike eased away from her a bit, trying to push down his own need to listen to her. “’s okay, luv. I think I understand. You and soldier boy—”
Her eyes flashed to his. “It’s not Riley’s fault. It’s not. It’s me. I can’t . . . I can’t be what he needs. I can’t seem to be what anyone needs.” She looked away toward the fire again.
“Bollocks!” He grabbed her chin, pulling her back to face him. “You’re too much woman for Captain Cardboard, and it’s your fault?”
“Too much—”
Spike laughed and Buffy shot him an indignant look. “Luv, you’re the Slayer. I’m sure White Bread couldn’t keep up with you if his life depended on it. Not your fault. Just the lay of the land.” His look turned sly, and one eyebrow slanted up. “Sounds to me like you need a man who can keep up with you, maybe even put you in your place from time to time.” He lowered his head, his mouth against her ear, voice no more than growl. “Someone to take control.”
He didn’t move, but shot a look at her from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were large, round, her mouth gaping open as she drew in a ragged breath. Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what she needed. She’d been holding back with Soldier Boy, afraid to hurt him, no doubt. The boy’s pecker would probably fall off if this girl really let loose.
But now, here, maybe he could give her a chance to be herself. To surrender to her feelings—her body—and not be afraid of what that would mean or what that would do to him, emotionally and physically.
He rolled on top of her, his thigh between her legs. Taking her hands, he placed them on either side of her head, holding them down while he stared into her eyes. “That what you want, Buffy? Want me to take you? I can, luv. I can take you hard, make you scream.” He moved his thigh against her clit and watched as her pupils dilate, her breathing becoming harsh and shallow. “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what you want. My girl’s been wasting time with blokes who don’t know how to treat her, how to take care of her.”
He pulled her hands above her head, taking them both in one hand, while his other hand moved down, flowing along the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the fullness of her hip. Reaching under her thigh, he pulled her leg up and over his hip, opening her to him. Dipping his head into the crook of her neck, he growled, “Let go, Buffy. You can let go, luv. I’ve got you.”
His cock slid between the lips of her pussy and she moaned, writhing against him. She tried to pull her hands free, but he held them tightly, somehow knowing she needed this; needed for him to show her he was stronger, prove to her that he could take whatever she had to give. Buffy whimpered, her hips thrusting against his, her other leg coming up to wrap around his waist.
“God, you’re a beautiful woman. Know that? All sleek curves and warm skin. Could eat you up, luv. Well, maybe later—” He smirked. “Want to fuck you good and proper now. Wanna fill that lovely quim and feel you come on my cock.”
Buffy shuddered against him as he leaned down and sucked on her neck, feeling her pulse on his lips. It was strange, even without the bloodlust urging him to feed, he wanted to bite her, mark her, suck her down. He kissed and suckled along her shoulder, at last biting down into the firm flesh of her upper arm. Buffy gasped, straining against him.
He entered her then, swiftly, completely, her cunt grasping him so tightly he thought he might come then and there
“Holy fuck. Christ,” he groaned. He huffed, pulling out and pushing back into her slowly. “Gonna work you over good, baby. Fuck but you’re tight. Snug as a cherry.” He laughed then, kissing her on the lips. “Not complaining. Nice, tight little cooch, fits me just right.”
“Yes. Oh, Spike,” Buffy clenched around his cock and Spike gritted his teeth. Damn the lack of vampire stamina. He held still for a moment, trying to back off his impending orgasm. Didn’t need to pop like a school boy before he’d gotten her off.
He tried to remember some of the recitations he’d learned as a boy. Mathematical equations, European capitals, even tried to bring up an image of Angel, which, in the past had always cooled his ardor. But the insistent drumming of Buffy’s heels against his ass, urged him on and he began to thrust within her.
She was bucking up against him, grunting with each thrust of his hips. He released her hands and she grabbed his shoulders, her finger nails leaving tiny crescent marks in his skin. He pulled out of her grasp, coming up on his knees and pushing her knees up to her chest, his cock pulling almost completely out of her before he buried it deep within her once more.
“Oh my god, oh, my god,” Buffy groaned, as her hands found her breasts, her fingers pulling at her nipples.
Spike leaned into her, rolling her hips up, angling her so that the base of his cock ground against her clit with each thrust. “That’s my girl,” he grunted, watching as she tossed her head back and forth on the blanket, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. “God, you’re marvelous. So fucking hot, luv. Let’s see if we can get a bit deeper, heh?” He moved her legs over his shoulders, his hips churning.
He could feel the tightening in his balls, the coiling tension in the pit of his stomach, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer. Leaning down, he nuzzled her fingers off her breasts, his tongue swirling around one red, swollen nipple. Buffy grasped the back of his head, moving him to her other breast and he sucked the other hard bud into his mouth.
“Spike!” Buffy screamed, the walls of her cunt fluttering around his shaft, her thighs trembling on his shoulder.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spike grunted, his face buried between the mounds of her breasts. He wanted to stay right where he was, finish off inside her, but he knew he couldn’t.
With the last bit of strength he had, he pushed her legs off his shoulders, pulling himself free from her. His cock, released from the tightness of her body, slapped against his stomach, hard and glistening.
Buffy watched him, her breath coming fast and shallow, watched him, confusion clear in her eyes. Spike bit down on his bottom lip and fisted his shaft with one hand, his balls with the other. One pump, his thumb running over the head of cock and he came, the stream of come landing on Buffy’s flat stomach.
“What … why—“
“Got me a heart beat now, luv. Also means I probably have swimmers.”
Buffy, both eyebrows raised, reached down to run a finger through the goo on her stomach. “Oh,” she murmured. What he said seemed to have finally made it through her post-coital, bliss, because her head jerked up, watching him as he knelt there, his now limp cock still clutched in his left hand. “Oh. Oh. Oh, my God!”
To Be Continued